Hell Bound
by Tallica86
Summary: Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovetts crimes are unveiled,but they are saved from the gallows by Johannas testimony.As alternative punishment,the pair is sent to Devils Island where they will learn that fates worse than death exist.ToddLovett,M rating later.
1. By The Sea

Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett's crimes are discovered, but they are saved from the gallows due to Johanna's testimony. As alternative punishment, the two brazen criminals are sent to Devil's Island where they will learn that fates worse than death do exist.

**Hello dear readers! Here is the fist chapter of my new story (NOT TO WORRY, I'M STILL VERY DEDICATED TO FINISHING INSUFFERABLE). This whole story was inspired by a strong urge to procrastinate in my Audiology studies. I haven't read anything else like it out there, and wanted to have a shot at writing the first fic of it's kind. I have based the looks and attitudes of the characters in my story off of Burton's version (Johnny Depp/Helena Bonham Carter) of Sondheim's original characters. I OWN NONE OF THEM. **

**So needless to say, this fanfic utilizes the main characters of SWEENEY TODD, THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET and is extremely, extremely, LOOSELY based on Domenico Paoella's WOMEN OF DEVIL'S ISLAND.**

**Please READ and REVIEW:I really want to know if the readers feel this is worth continuing, because as much as I complete my works of writing for personal satisfaction only, I would never dream of subjecting readers to something they just don't want to read. So respectful constructive criticism is welcomed, and praise is WARMLY welcomed**

--

_She was being ripped violently from his arms. Her hair had been set loose, flying wildly in all directions, and her brown eyes were wide and moist with startled tears. His fingers clung desperately to the lacy fabric of her dress, attempting to dig in further for a more secure grip. Every attempt Sweeney Todd exerted in order to keep Mrs. Lovett in his grasp failed. He was being separated from his business partner by forceful, callous ridden hands. A sense of extreme failure, thick and dark, clouded his vision and weighed down his straining muscles, as she was finally ripped from his hands. He was being dragged backward against his will, by the brute strength of unforgiving hands. Rage sent shivers coursing down Todd's spine, as he made a final attempt to sprint in Mrs. Lovett's direction. At that moment, a shot of excruciating pain created white flashes before his eyes, and Todd dropped to his knees with a deep growl. The officer's club had claimed its target perfectly, and warm blood drizzled down Todd's neck._

"_K-k-eep yer hands off 'a me you beast," Mrs. Lovett cried in a high pitched wail, sobs causing her syllables to quaver. Her insult was aimed directly at Todd, and she strained against the grip of a second officer, to no avail. Large hands held her slender forearms captive in an iron grip behind her back. " You would put me ta death after all I've done fer ya', damn ya' ta bloody hell then!"_

" _Treacherous bitch, my Lucy's gone…gone forever, sentenced to death by your poisonous lies. Nothing would grant me more satisfaction, than to see every inch of skin melt off of your selfish, cowardly hide," Todd flung his accusation at her through clenched teeth. It required two officers to restrain him as he was forced to his feet._

_One simple task, Todd. A single task, elementary in nature, and you failed quite miserably. How could you possibly have failed Lucy twice? _

_Sweeney Todd's shoulders slumped as his thoughts of defeat served to diminish his struggling. Beaten both mentally and physically, Todd abandoned his futile attempts at escape and allowed the two officers to direct his path_

_Todd's vacant gaze swept over his surroundings, his vision had begun to blur, courtesy of the blow dealt to his head. Through a mix of shadows and bright splotches of white light, Todd observed seven officers. All clad in black wool uniforms, they had flocked to various corners of the bake house. A younger officer with pale blonde hair clutched at his stomach and gagged at the sight and smell of the ghastly pile of bloodied flesh and ivory bones that sat atop the grinder. The older officers' brows furrowed and faces twisted in disgust, engaged in discussion with one another. Although visibly disturbed by their surroundings, the more experienced officers were obviously accustomed to the morbid atmosphere that accompanied crime scenes. They stood solemnly over the lifeless bodies of Turpin, the Beadle, and poor Lucy. Broken portions of the officer's conversations echoed in Todd's ears as he neared the stairs that led up to the pie shop._

"_Neighbor sent for the law…roused from their slumber by a woman's screams…"_

"_Found em' two down 'ere, the barber and that baker woman, wrestlin' bout like two rabid dogs…"_

"_From the looks 'a it, he fancied tossin' 'er into that fire over there. 'E intended ta burn 'er up in that very oven. 'E was dragging 'er towards certain death when we busted in…"_

_A smirk caused Todd's lips to curve slightly, at the idea that his final plot of revenge had nearly been a success. He had been mere inches away from the iron contraption; the heat from the sweltering inferno had kissed his cold skin. The desire to ensure that Mrs. Lovett pay the ultimate debt for her unforgivable offense had coursed through Todd's veins with a potent force. Yet his fantasy of charred skin and agonized screams had been stolen from him the instant the officers had barged in. However, it was the fact that Mrs. Lovett had recognized the precise moment in which he intended to lay her to rest in the scorching blaze, that had perplexed and enraged him the most. Upon taking a single glance into his eyes, just as they had neared the mouth of the oven, the blasted wench had initiated a pitiful struggle. Mrs. Lovett had emitted a desperate combination of pleas and curses. Her heels dug sharply into the ground as her bony knuckles made multiple contacts with Todd's face. Mrs. Lovett's futile escape attempts had further fueled Todd's fury, and with minimal effort, their fateful journey to the oven had commenced. She had been secure in his grasp, fate nearly sealed, and yet the deceitful bitch had managed to escape…_



The sharp howl of agonized shrieks caused Todd's thoughts to diminish into tiny dwindling embers. The echoing of pathetic pleading assaulted his ears, and a sense of lost dignity hung heavily in the air. Harsh edges of jutting splinters grazed the skin of his bare feet. Aggressive lurching motions and the moan of creaking floorboards carried Todd away from a now distant memory. The smell of mold, damp wood, and vomit crept into his nostrils, confirming his present state. Despite the repulsive nature of his surroundings, another notion introduced itself to Todd. A wicked smirk graced his lips, this being the sole manner in which Sweeney Todd displayed any amusement, and he allowed his idea to lull him away from reality once more.

_She may have bargained with death once, but no one may avoid the inevitable forever…whether it be in this life or the next, that lying wench's blood shall be on my hands. It is indeed more than appropriate, that we descend to hell together at this very moment…_

A warm flood of satisfaction and comfort engulfed Todd from head to toe, as he clutched his pale hands together. Strong, slender fingers intertwined themselves in anticipation. The paleness of his knuckles increased as his grip tightened, mimicking the act of strangulation, as Todd awaited their final destination.

--

"_Our society looks down upon vile criminals, such as yourselves, with an eye of disgust and a heart full of loathing. The blood of the most honorable Judge Turpin and countless others rests on your hands. It would give me no greater satisfaction to see the pair of you writhing in agony at the end of a rope, which is the traditional sentence for lowlife miscreants. However, there are two factors working inexplicably in your favor. The first issue is the unfortunate fact that there is minimal evidence available to inform us of the precise number of lives taken at your hands. The second deciding factor is the gracious testimony and request that all charges be dropped. The previous was given by the late Judge's respectable ward, Johanna Hope. That being said, the courts have decided to honor Mrs. Hope's request. With all factors being taken into consideration, your necks have been sparred, and death by hanging is no longer an available option. However, the two of you must be made into an example, for the public to witness the manner in which the magnanimous Queen Victoria's law system operates. An alternative and befitting mode of punishment has been chosen; permanent banishment to Devil's Island"._

_The image of the judge's powdered face, twisted in disgust, was painted on the back of Mrs. Lovett's eyelids. The redundant thumping of his gavel was like a sinister jeer, and it resounded with a tortuous force inside of Mrs. Lovett's head. The weight of the sentence issued to her one week prior, now sat cruelly in the pit of her stomach. Her bare feet scraped on splintered wooden planks, as she attempted to step forward. The simple act of walking had been transformed into a punishment. The hardened hands of the prison guards had introduced the cold, biting, steel of large shackles to the sensitive flesh of Mrs. Lovett's ankles. The cruel rings of metal sat loosely at the ends of her legs._

_A profusely overweight prison guard, sweat streaming down a ruddy face due to the vigorous task of clamping down shackles on hundreds of ankles in one day, snarled in frustration._

"_Them bloody things are too big fer 'er blasted ankles. Keep slippin' every which way, they do," Tiny droplets of spit flew everywhere as a result of his frustrated statement._

_Another guard, slim and stern faced, knelt down at the hem of Mrs. Lovett's dress to inspect the shackles. _

_The slimmer guard spoke in a raspy tone, amusement coating every word._

" _Not ta worry, attempted escape ain't no option fer any a' these unfortunate souls. Wot wit' taday bein' the Day a' Transport and all, there ought ta be guards coverin' every surroundin' inch of the docks. An' even if a prisoner made any idiotic attempts ta run, I'm certain a good, God fearin' citizen would stop 'im. Seein' as the courts 'ave offered a pretty penny ta anyone willin' ta lend their assistance. An' besides that fact," The guard chuckled and ran a lascivious hand up the length of Mrs. Lovett's calve, "These shackles ain't built ta fit a lady."_

_Shuttering, Mrs. Lovett squeezed her eyes shut, shame seeping into every limb of her body._

_The fat lump of a guard scoffed, and spit at Mrs. Lovett's feet, the action causing his confidant to jump back in surprise. The rotund fellow cast Mrs. Lovett a patronizing glance, and uttered, "This ain't no lady, me friend, this be a criminal."_

"_Don't ya dare speak of that which you know nothin' about, ya ignorant swine!" Mrs. Lovett spat, her retort falling on turned backs. _

_She watched the guards disappear into the vast sea of people who had begun to form around the docks. The hum of citizens, eager for a display of public humiliation as a welcome escape from their own dull colorless existence, swirled about in the air. Darkened clouds had coated the London Sky, and a threatening rumble of thunder resounded. The weather perfectly matched the atmosphere; blackened, desolate, and utterly hopeless. Mrs. Lovett stood amongst a line of thirty women, all of which were joined together at the ankles by thick shackles. Mrs. Lovett's eyes scanned her fellow chain-mates. The majority of the women along the line had three common characteristics; they had been stripped of their shoes, shackles adorned every pair of wrists, and each was sobbing miserably. The sole exception to the contagious stream of tears was Mrs. Lovett. She was completely convinced that all possible tears had escaped from her damaged body when her heart had been mercilessly torn into two, hardened, pieces. A large portion had been broken off from the whole when Mr. Todd had hatefully attempted to drag her towards the mouth of her own oven. The second portion had been separated at the trial, when Todd had refused to confirm the fact that Mrs. Lovett never actually committed a single murder. She had merely been an accomplice, and had been abandoned by the sole witness to that truth. Therefore, now as she walked in sync with the line of chained feet, the tears that would make her identical to the thirty women were absent. _

_The female prisoners began to walk the final length of the dock, alongside chained lines of over one hundred men. Male prisoners began to ascend the lengthy wooden ramp that led to the ship. They held stoic expressions on their faces, and their hardened jaw lines were frozen in place. _

_Before the first of the female line could set step onto the ramp, they were stopped by a sandy blonde haired man, with wide muscular shoulders, and a crooked nose. The fellow wore a cheerful smile and a red wool coat. Stepping forward, he addressed the captive audience in a deep, booming voice._

" '_Ello me loves, I be yer' Captain. Captain Gilbert Sullivan ta' be exact. Welcome aboard the HELL BOUND. I simply wanted ta begin this voyage by sayin that all 'a ya lasses should consider yerselves lucky. Under the new legislative stipulations, implemented by Parliament and her highness, Queen Victoria, female criminals are now allowed passage onto Devil's Island. This is quite the golden opportunity for ya ladies, for ya 'ave been offered a new life. A life in which ya are free to abandon yer felonious tendencies, and add purpose ta yer existence. Fortunate ya are, for I am sure that the hard working guards 'a the island shall 'ave plenty 'a new uses fer ya."_

_Pleased with his own vulgar innuendo, a deep chuckle escaped his throat as Captain Sullivan yanked on the front of the chain, causing the line to stagger forward. _

_Mrs. Lovett, suddenly forced to begin taking small steps forward, decided to take a last look at her home since birth. The entire city of London's appeared to mourn her departure, as light droplets from the gray sky fell on her head. Black rooftops seemed to slope in hundreds of frowns on the dark horizon. She briefly wondered what would become of the pie shop as her gaze fell on the crowd behind her. Gazes, full of abhorrent disapproval burned their way through the lines of prisoners. Mrs. Lovett's heart filled to the brim with anger as she spotted a smirking Mrs. Mooney. Mrs. Mooney held her head haughtily in the air, and nodded in approval as each prisoner stepped onto the ramp. Mrs. Lovett's gaze then fell upon a sight which made her heart weaken and descend downward in her chest. Toby stood, head down with pitiful tears staining his cheeks. The inconsolable child was clutched tightly at Johanna's side, who seemed to be caught in a stoic trance-like state. Not far from Johanna was Anthony. Mr. Hope was attempting to fight his way through the crowd in order to gain access to the next line of male prisoners. The last sight that Mrs. Lovett's gaze swept over caused her heart to deaden and clench painfully in her chest. It was Mr. Todd, chained amongst other unfamiliar faces. Todd's livid expression and solid composure didn't flinch, as Anthony whispered a final message into his ear. The male line continued their journey as Anthony watched in desperation. It was at that point that London had disappeared from Mrs. Lovett's vision forever, and the sky ceased to exist as she was led below the decks of the Hell Bound._

--

The heavy drag of shackles on wooden planks roused Mrs. Lovett from her thoughts. She had replayed the events of her last hours in London, in the numbed chambers of her mind, numerous times. Mrs. Lovett had no concept of time, whether she had been imprisoned in the cramped cell for three days, six months, or twelve years was a mystery to her. Her current companions were the damp air, the dark atmosphere, and nine silent women. No one attempted to dare speech or sobs, for either one warranted a lashing. Day after day, the ten cellmates had witnessed multiple lifeless bodies being pulled above by the crew members. As countless corpses, made the journey overboard, into the shark infested waters, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the irony of the situation. For the fact was, the only form of freedom currently available, was death.

However, the basic human instinct to maintain life had won, and Mrs. Lovett learned to huddle closely to the blonde haired, rail thin woman to her right. She also learned to stretch out the length of her arms and legs in the space available, and the other women in the cell had followed her example. Assuming that the unforgiving cold and the stagnant nature of the prisoner's cramped position were the root causes of death, the woman had religiously followed these regiments of stretching and huddling. At rare moments, hints of smiles and nodding of heads could be seen amongst the group. These being displays of pride at the fact that they had been successful in one aspect; they were still breathing.

Even in her present state, and to her extreme self- disgust, Mrs. Lovett wondered if Mr. Todd was as successful at maintaining life as she had been thus far. She was curious as to what effect seeing his lifeless body being dragged above would have on her. Would she experience the purest of satisfaction, at the notion that the bastard finally got what he deserved? Or would she long to be tossed overboard with him, feeling as if all her stretching and huddling was in vain?

_I have not the faintest idea_, Mrs. Lovett mused to herself.

Without warning, the harsh jolt of the ship, and a heavy creaking moan caused her heart to ascend into her throat. The ship had ceased to move. Mrs. Lovett's pulse began to accelerate in anticipation. Long, tortuous moments later, slow steps descended the steps to the holding cells and a man's gravelly voice rang out.

"Alright, ya miserable bastards, out wit the lot 'a ya. We've reached yer final destination. Welcome to Devil's Island."

--

The repulsive sound and putrid smell of retching filled the air. Men and women fell to their knees in agony, their muscles in the early stages of atrophy. To Mrs. Lovett's delight, she and the nine women from her cell had staggered, not completely fallen, onto the scorching sands of the beach. The sweltering heat from the vivid yellow rays of the sun, beat harshly onto her back. Her auburn curls had fallen loose from the constriction of it's pins, and it caught small sand particles. Mrs. Lovett noticed that their surroundings included an endless jungle of swaying palm trees, white sand, rows of feeble looking huts, and a million of miles of blue ocean. Prisoners' were slowly being freed from the confinements of their shackles. As her wrists and ankles were finally separated from their metal companions, Mrs. Lovett winced as she ran fingers over the raw flesh. Bringing her emancipated hands above her head, she reveled in the freedom of a simple stretch. Her delight was short lived. As the last string of prisoners stepped onto the beach, a baritone voice seemed to stop time with the cruelty echoed within it.

" On your knees, to the ground, like the disgusting, filth ridden snakes you are."

The command was given by a tall man; easily standing over six feet in height. Despite the heat, he was clad in a billowy, black long sleeved shirt and black leather britches. His head was completely bald, and prominent blue veins decorated his temples. Topaz eyes pierced the crowd of prisoners with a gaze meant to locate and challenge the rebellious individuals. His face was also characterized by a crooked nose, highly pronounced cheekbones, and thin lips. All of which created a sinister air about him . Lean muscled arms and long legs strode forward, and a large hand griped a formidable leather whip which cracked at the man's heels. A large army of men, gripping muskets, surrounded their leader and established their aim at the herd of prisoners.

" Make haste you blasted, God forsaken smut. Let's have the flea ridden mutts on the left side and the useless heifers on the left side. When you are under Master Skelter's command, swift compliance is essential to your survival."

His second command was accompanied by the crack of the whip. Men and women alike, began to quake violently, as row upon row fell to their knees. Both genders had quickly separated themselves by a five inch row, men kneeling to the left and women to the right.

Mrs. Lovett felt fear induced bile begin to coat her throat. In an attempt to focus her mind elsewhere, she filled both of her fists with sand. The warm grains began to sift through her fingertips and fall back to the ground. She soon became lost in her own miserable thoughts as she watched the sand retreat from between her fingers and return to become unified with the beach. Soon all of it would be lost, out of her grasp, very similar to her life back to London. Lost, like her business, that which she had sewn her heart and soul into. Gone, like the protective walls of the pie shop. Absent, like the comfort of her own bed. Stolen away, like her freedom.

Suddenly, the hushed tones of a malicious laugh broke her thought process. It was a wicked, jeering laugh, put forth with the intention to cause emotional distress. Mrs. Lovett knew that evil laugh with an overwhelming familiarity. Whipping her head to her right, her eyes fell on a very alive Mr. Todd.

Todd was situated on his knees along with the others; his pale face held a twisted look of sadistic amusement, and his smirk was directed at her.

" Isn't this what you desired most, my dear?" Todd uttered in whispered tones, between quiet cackles, "I'd wager that your little heart is filled with imminent happiness."

Unconcealed sarcasm and deep spite was wrapped around his every word.

Mrs. Lovett, both deeply disturbed and confused, whispered a reply, "Whatever do ya' mean?"

Her whispered words were met by a light nudge from the thin blonde woman to her left, a silent, but desperate urge for silence. Mrs. Lovett ignored the woman.

Todd leaned in slowly, and brushed back the hair covering Mrs. Lovett's ear. He wanted every word of his reply to ring fresh and clear in her ears.

His crazed laughter continued as he spoke, knowing he was about to maim her deeply, "To live by the sea, you stupid woman! You spoke of nothing else, when we resided in London, and now you have arrived, all expenses paid! How does it feel, my dear, to know that your dream has come true?"

His laughter did not cease, and the cruel sound of it initiated a visible fit of trembling in Mrs. Lovett's form. Her hands clenched and unclenched, white hot fury clouded her vision, and her pale cheeks transformed into a deep crimson.

_All is lost, all is gone…because of this man…_

_Because of this man_

_Because of this man_

_Because of this man_

The punishing thought begged her for release and her eyes flashed dangerously..

She uttered an animal shriek, the sound making its way upward from deep within her throat. Memories of the trial, of the last night in the bake house, of her eagerness to comply to him, and of the futile efforts she had exerted in order to gain a mere scrap of his attention and love were the fuel to her enraged screams. Mrs. Lovett lunged at a bewildered Todd with superhuman speed and strength. Skirts flew haphazardly in all directions, and her hair was a frenzy. The barber and the baker fell to the ground in a struggle, Mrs. Lovett bringing herself down atop Todd. Her knuckles scraped forcefully on his cheekbones, and her nails aimed directly for his eyes.

The shrill sound of multiple blowing whistles pierced the air.

"BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU BLOODY, SELFISH PIG, ALL I'VE EVER WORKED FOR HAS GONE TO COMPLETE SHIT!" Mrs. Lovett spat frantically, fists landing repeatedly on Todd's face. He made multiple attempts to still her flying wrists. Despite Todd's attempts and the shouts surrounding her, she continued, "GIVE ME BACK WOT YA STOLE FROM ME, YA DESPICABLE THIEF. GIVE IT BACK, YOU HATEFUL BEAST".

Multiple pairs of hands were unsuccessful in their attempts to pull the screaming woman off of Todd.

Skelter's gaze of disapproval fell on his men, who were quite unsuccessful in restraining her. Skelter's eyes then landed on this woman, all auburn hair, wild brown eyes, and high pitched screams. Her insubordinate nature caused the rage to boil dangerously in the Head Guards' veins. This type of behavior couldn't be allowed to become contagious among the encampment. He would indeed need to make an example of this unruly creature. Taking long strides over to a confused guard, Skelter tore a musket from the man's grasp.

Aiming the gun in Mrs. Lovett's direction, he fired two shots that split the air.

BANG, BANG!

--

**PLEASE READ: I realize that in beginning this story, I am taking a bit of a risk due to the nature of it, but before I get flamed too harshly keep a few things in mind:**

**1. The story takes place away from the usual pie shop setting, I know this may bother some people, but I encourage you to keep an open mind.**

**2. Before anyone goes flame-happy due to any historical inaccuracies that may have occurred, keep in mind that I am also loosely basing this on another MOVIE, THE WOMEN OF DEVIL'S ISLAND (minus any cheesy factors).**

**That being said, please enjoy! This story will be another multiple chapter one (if I continue it), I have many character ideas, and am pretty excited about this..but like I said before please let me know if this is something you shall enjoy reading! Thank you for your time if you have gotten this far. **

**MUCH LOVE- Chrys**


	2. Damnation

BANG, BANG

**A/N: Why helllooo everyone! I just wanted to start by saying THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed the last chapter:** Full-Metal-Darkness,ByTheBeautifulSea, AngelofDarkness1605,SakuraLeeChan, VerelLupin, tearsandeyeliner, Astria07, Miss Poisonous, Just a Little Crazy, ShadowedElegance, Lizzienuss88, Mrs. Nellie Lovett Todd, and Marzi. **You all have provided me with large amounts of encouragement, and inspiration, which is why I have chosen to continue. I must extend a special thanks to,** Lizzienuss88** for it was her motivation which set me to writing (sorry this wasn't out as soon as I said it would be, my internet connection has been spontaneously been going down). To all readers: please feel free to write to me if you'd like to converse, I'd love to know the exciting details of everyone's life!**

**All of my dear readers provided the first chapter with more reviews than I had anticipated, and I'm hoping for a repeat of that (it really brings me genuine joy to know that people are enjoying my writing). So don't be shy; review, review, review! CONSTRCTIVE criticism is welcomed, and praise is WARMLY welcomed. lol.**

** I believe this story falls under the AU category. I am new to all of this lingo, so feel free to correct me if I am wrong. This story is rated T for now, please beware of strong language. Later chapters will be rated M….I'm sure you can figure out why)**

** Updates will be a bit slow; I am burdened with a full load of classes (Audiometry/lab, Phonological Disorders in Children, and Psycholinguistics). I shall try to update every other Sunday, but reviews are truly a form of motivation, so updates could come more frequently (I shall try my best, I promise).- Chrys**

**--******

BANG, BANG!!

The ear splitting raucous tore through the air, as bullets flew directly past Mrs. Lovett's head.

Never in her lifetime, had Mrs. Lovett experienced the firing of a gun at such a close range. Her shoulder muscles vibrated with small spasms and tensed in surprise as she instinctively dropped belly first onto the hot sand. Even in this harrowing situation, she took note of the fact that Sweeney Todd neglected to flinch. The pale barber remained on his knees, took one look at the sprawled baker, and snickered contemptuously.

_Heartless beast_, Mrs. Lovett thought from her unfortunate belly down position

Her rage fueled thoughts were interrupted by a pair of black steel toed boots directly in front of her face. Instantly, her mouth grew dry, and a knot of fear deeply rooted itself inside of her stomach. Slowly, her gaze drifted upward until it came into contact with a fierce pair of topaz eyes, hollow and unforgiving.

Skelter's pale face gazed at Mrs. Lovett in unconcealed disgust, and he emitted a thick stream of spit which landed within inches of her face.

Leaning down until his face was directly by her ear, the bald man emitted a raspy whisper, "Tsk, tsk, the guardian must deal with the disobedient child in a suitable fashion."

With those words, Skelter roughly grasped a handful of Mrs. Lovett's curls, his fingernails grazing the skin of her scalp. Mrs. Lovett winced in genuine pain as she was yanked to her feet by her hair.

Skelter shot her yet another look of disgusted disapproval, and then proceeded to address the crowd of kneeling prisoners.

"I demand all of your bloody eyes in this direction, you pathetic filth. Before us stands an excellent example of shameful idiocy; an insubordinate cow. My sole purpose on this earth is to purge each and every one of your sins and wickedness through discipline, labor, lesson, and example. Therefore, it is my inherent duty, to see to it that this bitch is made into an example. Watch closely, for a similar fate may befall any one of you."

Skelter placed a hand at his belt. The belt was composed of black leather and contained multiple loops, each anchoring a variety of items. Long, pale finger skimmed over a set of metal keys, a brown leather pouch, and finally landed on a menacing contraption. Slowly, Skelter drew forward a long, narrow piece of worn black leather. A petrified Mrs. Lovett gazed at the whip; she imagined that this instrument of torture had decorated countless backs with ghastly scars.

Hooking calloused fingers into the neckline of her dress, Skelter tore the back of Mrs. Lovett's dress to her mid back. Careless hands undid the laces of her undergarments and roughly pushed them down, exposing bare skin. Terror shaped the woman's features, and she drew in a sharp intake of breath as her eyes pressed shut. Humiliation engulfed her at thought that the naked flesh of her back was currently being exposed to a full crowd. Her breathing grew ragged and her pulse beat rapidly as Skelter forced her to her knees once again.

"The women's penalty, for insubordination, is ten lashes." Skelter declared to the crowd of prisoners, the slightest hint of a wicked smile was present at the corners of his thin lips. The sadistic man was obviously experiencing a degree of satisfaction and enjoyment. He ran a hand over the smooth skin of Mrs. Lovett's bare back and snickered with the knowledge that the pale canvas would soon be adorned with scars. Mrs. Lovett grasped fistfuls of her skirts and trembled violently in anticipation of the inevitable pain to come. The panicked thumping of her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and her mouth grew dry.

"Brace yourself pet, this shall not be over swiftly," a wickedly amused Skelter announced to his frightened victim. He drew the whip back and above his head, the motion produced a formidable sound as it sliced through the air.

CRACK!

In an instant it was upon her, the merciless whip was introduced to yielding flesh, ripping past the barrier, and sending a crimson river cascading down Mrs. Lovett's back. Searing pain radiated throughout every inch of her body, and bright flashes of white light clouded her vision. Mrs. Lovett fought back the urge to vomit, and a choked gasp escaped her tightened throat. The first strike was had been dealt, yet her ordeal was far from over.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!

The persistent whip hissed through the air and sliced past layers of tissue as it continued to complete its task; to permanently scar both the mind and body.

Initially, the desire to maintain a measure of dignity overtook Mrs. Lovett. In all her years of hardship and strife she had built up a stone façade in the face of adversity. Crying had always been her last option, and she viewed tear shed as a mark of weakness. She'd be dammed if mere physical pain would drive her to weep. A whirlwind tempest of determination and strain served to construct a wall; its intention being to suppress tear flow .Yet, her efforts began to dwindle as the constant blows and mass amounts of agony persisted. In addition to the physical punishment, her humiliation began to slowly grow by volumes, and she felt the traitorous tears threaten her eyelids.

Mrs. Lovett lifted her head to the sky, searching for assistance and mercy from a higher form. In the search for a mode of rescue, her gaze landed on a sinister sight. Through the thick pain induced haze which obscured her vision, Mrs. Lovett was able to recognize the cold lines of a familiar face. She gazed directly into a vicious pair of hollow black eyes, which appeared to be scanning her face in harsh scrutiny. It slowly became clear to Mrs. Lovett that she had fallen victim to the actions of two heartless sadists; the sting of Skelter's whip and the scorch of Sweeney Todd's glare.

Mrs. Lovett knew every hollow corner and ragged edge of Todd's gaze with an overwhelming familiarity. When the pair had resided in London, the instances in which his eyes would fall upon her had been scarce. Yet she had taken what glances had been tossed her way and held on hungrily to those scraps. Mrs. Lovett would often spend hours memorizing the ebony flashes and dark contours within the orbs, eagerly absorbing each cherished detail. Through such practices, she had acquired the useful ability of being able to recognize each of Todd's deranged emotions, and therefore predict the degree of his rage fueled outbursts. Todd's eyes could transform to reflect the bottomless grief spawned by Lucy's memory or the predatory bloodlust at the thought of the judge. Yet, amongst all others, Mrs. Lovett knew that one emotion in particular overpowered the rest and shone through Todd's eyes on a constant basis. This emotion was that of desire; the desire for vengeance spawned by deep hate. At times such as these, Todd's eyes would flash and darken to a soulless shade of midnight ebony. This deep and unnatural tinge of black appeared to engulf and devour his pupils, as if the murderous force was attempting to swallow his soul. That very force had lifted its wicked head, barred its jagged teeth, and laughed at her that evening in the bake house. Mrs. Lovett knew that if she hadn't been fully capable of identifying that murderous glance, she would have been eaten alive by the flames of her trusty oven on that very evening. Yes, she knew that vicious flash in Todd's eye by heart. That same flash was furiously alive in Todd's eyes at this very instant, challenging her as the whip landed repeatedly on her back.

Todd's eyes mocked her and a sneer was present on his lips as he reveled in her pain and misfortune. His gaze was fixed upon her, cold and unblinking, as not to miss the opportunity to witness her blood flow or a tear slowly drop. Mrs. Lovett knew that Todd expected to witness a full display of her weakness in the form of tears.

The vicious whip continued to penetrate her flesh, but as each strike inflicted its punishment, Mrs. Lovett began to regain her mental composure. Through all the pain, she felt something stronger begin to grow and rise. Humiliation and heartbreak had been her constant companions as of late, but this was a different emotion boiling up inside of her. Rage and betrayal, both having been triggered by the mockery of Todd's insolent gaze, ran its heated course through her veins. It suddenly became remarkably clear to Mrs. Lovett, that Sweeney Todd was anticipating her failure. She knew that the pitiful sight of tear shed would be a sure indicator of her broken spirit, and thus present Todd with endless amounts of satisfaction.

_That man 'as gotten the best a' me, time and time again. Well, not this time Mr. T, yer victory over me ends today_.

Mrs. Lovett's thoughts danced furiously throughout her mind, and although her agonized screams could not be contained, she now held new found motivation to smother any urges to weep. Painful memories of the past months added fuel to the fire which served to cement the stoic state of her features. The tone of Todd's cruel voice echoed within every new crack of the whip. All of the statements he had tossed in her direction, with the intent to maim her heart, where now presented before her.

CRACK!

_Remove your useless hide from my shop at once; we can't very well have you getting in the way when the judge comes. .What in the bloody hell are you gawking at? GET OUT! You are of no need to me, LEAVE!_

Each of Todd's stubborn rants had been identical .The multiple hours and efforts Mrs. Lovett had invested into preparing his every meal had always proved a complete waste. More often than not, the erratic man had knocked the tray of food from Mrs. Lovett's hand, causing its contents to splatter across the floor, and leaving her to sweep up the mess. The single constant factor in Mrs. Lovett's relationship with Todd was the fact that she was repeatedly forced to clean up his messes. From cleansing the blood on his shirts and shop floor, to the multiple bodies she hacked to bits in order to keep money flowing and the evidence invisible. Without uttering a single complaint, she had lovingly tied up all the loose ends of his murderous quest. Not once had she faltered in her duties, and she had prided herself on the fact that she constantly remained on point. Yet never once, in spite of her mountain of accomplishments, had a single word of praise or gratitude fallen upon her ears. Mrs. Lovett had been willing to dedicate her life to him in its entirety, but his rejection of that very offer had been made apparent that night in the bake house. Her only compensation had arrived in the form of a severe lashing, confirming the fact that all her efforts to gain Todd's affection were in vain.

Mrs. Lovett had given him all of her, offering Todd everything she owned, and he had greedily consumed every bit, leaving her empty. It was true; Todd had taken everything from her. Every last form of freedom was wasted and gone, except for her right to shed tears. This was the sole action she remained in control of. So, as she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist in preparation for the next blow, she vowed that she would never afford him that luxury.

CRACK!

Then there was Lucy, his angel. Her pale perfection was complimented by a heavenly halo of yellow hair and copious amounts of virtue. Mrs. Lovett knew every minute detail encompassing Sweeney Todd's flawless princess. Mrs. Lovett wagered that Todd's privileged brat had never lifted a finger in her spoiled little life. Yet Todd would sit and sulk, muttering away about the purity associated with his beautiful wife. All Mrs. Lovett could do was sit by his side and listen. Every word of adoration sent heart wrenching pangs of white hot jealousy through her core, and she was rendered powerless.

Mrs. Lovett had provided Todd with a solid and unwavering foundation, one which required a vast amount of strength. Strength, which a feeble minded Lucy wouldn't have been capable of acquiring, even if she had spent multiple lifetimes attempting to obtain it.

_Don't you dare cry Nellie, never in your life have you been a weak women. That was Lucy's role to play. _

Mrs. Lovett allowed a shrill scream to escape her throat. Thick beads of sweat formed on her brow, but her cheeks remained dry as she lifted her head to challenge Todd's glowing eyes with a defiant glare.

CRACK!

_Mr. Todd, you have been found guilty of several brutal counts of murder and that is a certain fact. However, Nellie Lovett states the claim that her hand wasn't involved in any of these counts, further than the position of an accomplice. Unfortunately, there is no evidence available to point us in the direction of the truth. Therefore, your statement must be taken into account. Is there a measure of truth to Nellie Lovett's claims?_

_Not all, your honor. The woman embraces the art of lying as if it were a simple everyday task. She stands before you, just as guilty as I._

The heartless words of Todd's blatant betrayal had effortlessly sliced through Mrs. Lovett's heart. On that day she had stood stoic faced and still as stone before the judge, however her hopes and dreams had reached the final steps of erosion. It was on that day, that Mrs. Lovett had decided to allow her heart to finally rest and escape from the constant torture inflicted by Todd. Unable to break further, the defeated organ had slept silently in her chest.

_He's the one who earned and deserves this lashin', it was the traitorous pig's words wot instigated the entire commotion earlier…I suppose I should 'ave expected the bastard ta keep 'is worthless mouth shut. He'd lift Turpin's name in praise 'fore he'd come ta me defense, that fact was proven at the trial and on this very day as well_.

Mrs. Lovett's enraged thoughts fully consumed her; she barely noticed the warm flow of blood running down her sides and becoming absorbed by the cloth of her dress. Todd's gaze was still locked with hers, but the malicious sneer that had once decorated his thin lips had disappeared. The man's pale features were now contorted into sharp, furious angles. His brow furrowed and his eyes shot hateful daggers at the bleeding woman. Todd's boiling anger at her defiance was apparent, and at this realization, a sneer graced Mrs. Lovett's lips. She felt a chuckle begin to rise within her, and any potential tears were forgotten.

CRACK!

The final blow settled on her back, sending small blood droplets in various directions. The crimson specks settled in her hair and decorated her cheekbones. The pitiful sight of Mrs. Lovett, blood coated and trembling on her knees, was enough to strike compassion into the hearts of the surrounding prisoners.

However, amongst the scarlet stains of blood spattered across Mrs. Lovett's pale features, the hint of a smile was causing her lips to curve upward. The smile was one spawned from victory and she finally felt herself the ultimate conqueror. Amidst the numerous times Todd had triumphed over her, she had finally tasted victory. The taste was sweet as warm honey and it mingled with the coppery tang of fresh blood in her mouth. Todd's eyes were filled to the brim with heated rage and disappointment at the fact that tears hadn't combined with the blood on Mrs. Lovett's face. The hateful man's anger had provided her with more satisfaction than any amount of gold plated riches ever could. At that thought, Mrs. Lovett broke out into a fit of unrestrained laughter. She was an unnerving sight indeed; a blood coated figure on its knees, wracked by convulsions due to a stream of heavy laughter. The entire camp fell into a shocked silence, and even the heavily armed guards stepped back in astonishment.

Amongst the speechless crowd, two pairs of eyes studied the bloodied baker with increasing intensity.

--

_The woman's barking mad_.

Sweeney Todd's initial conclusion settled within his mind, but was quickly pushed aside by a set of rage driven thoughts. Scanning Mrs. Lovett's pale face, he took note of its condition. Bloodied evidence of her extreme physical pain coated her features, yet any indication of tears was absent. Disappointment wracked Todd's body and caused his fists to clench, for the fact was that proof of a broken spirit was nowhere to be found.

When Skelter had placed his hands on Mrs. Lovett's flailing form, Todd instantly realized what her fate would be. Anticipation and excitement had griped him, and Todd had waited eagerly for the show to begin. Sweeney's desire to catch a glimpse of the women's pitiful weakness had grown stronger as the whipping commenced. However, as Skelter's rain of torture had fallen upon Mrs. Lovett's back, her strength appeared to slowly grow and rise within her. As Todd witnessed the defiant fire spark in her eyes, his rage had multiplied .Finally, at the end of her ordeal, her wildly vibrant spirit had burned brightly and lit up her features .It was a mockery in true form, and Todd was baffled by this fact. She had been stripped of all dignity, her grave misfortune set on display, and despite of this she had looked Todd in the eye and challenged him. He always knew the wretched woman to be brazen in her tendencies; shamefully haughty and boisterous. Mrs. Lovett's endless chatter and the bold bluntness associated with her curious nature had never ceased to aggravate Todd to the point of explosion. However, the nature of the events currently placed before him had been infuriating and unexpected. It was clear to Todd that even Skelter was taken back by Mrs. Lovett's rebellious manner.

Suddenly, through Todd's mist of anger, a new notion struck him, causing his troubled features to once again settle into their customary position of malice.

_That insufferable woman is still ignorant to the hardships of this particular world. Eventually, the hard labor and cruel nature associated with imprisonment is bound to wreak havoc on her insolent soul. Survival is never a guarantee, and must be earned. I shall assure that she in quite unsuccessful in that aspect._

--

Skelter slowly ran a devious gaze over the auburn haired woman kneeling before him. He had served as a guard on Devil's Island for twenty solid years, and took constant pride in the countless lessons he bestowed upon his prisoners. Throughout his service, he had dealt an endless amount of lashings to pathetic pleading prisoners. Never once, had any individual, male or female, failed to shed a tear or beg for mercy. Skelter's unfaltering ability to intimidate his cowering victims was a personal accomplishment that filled the sadistic man with extreme satisfaction. That fact had remained constant until this day.

The woman before him had not only failed to plead with him, but she had laughed at his efforts to inflict pain. Her shrill laughter had served to engulf the guard with immense shock, causing him to take a step back in order to stare at her. Her large brown eyes flashed with mirth, and her teeth were exposed by a wide smile.

The desire to reintroduce his whip to her insubordinate hide had hit him with a compelling force, but something had stopped him. A heavy layer of amusement had rooted him in place, and Skelter made the decision that this soul deserved to be broken slowly. After all, the man did enjoy a challenge.

Leaning down, Skelter seized Mrs. Lovett by her forearms, and roughly tossed the woman back into the crowd of female prisoners.

" I do hope that each and every one of you swine observed closely. My favorite part of my stay on this lovely island, are the opportunities that fall into my hands. The opportunity to educate is a wondrous concept, and as far as I'm concerned, each one of you is a mound of ignorance. I am more than willing and eager to mold each and every once of you in the palm of my hand," Skelter shot a large open palm forward and quickly shut it, imitating a crushing motion, "Now then children, my second in command shall address you before you are shown to your quarters. Watson?" with that statement, Skelter took long strides, finally separating himself from the crowd.

A sweating, ruddy faced man with thinning blond hair, beady blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a protruding belly stepped forward. The man's face was boyish, but far from innocent. He had the look of a young boy who held a squirming insect in his hands, in anticipation of ripping the wings off of the helpless creature. A smirk rested on his thick lips and white spittle coated the edges of his mouth. Clearing his throat, Watson addressed the prisoners in a gruff and heavy British accent.

"Listen ere, ya filth. Ima make this quick and easy, since I know ya be itchin ta git settled in ta this hell hole. The rules are few and simple; obedience an' swift labor are yer keys ta survival. Fer every incorrect or idiotic action, there are various degrees of consequences, but I'll let ya discover thems fer yerselves," Watson emitted a deep chuckle, obviously finding amusement in his own words. After completing his laughter and taking a deep breath, he continued, " The lot a' ya shall rise a' four in the mornin' ta start yer daily tasks. For those 'a ya who fancy yer beauty sleep over yer hide, punishment awaits ya. Tardiness is inexcusable. All assigned tasks must be complete by ten at night, and dinner shall follow. Laziness is completely unacceptable, and consequences shall be in store for those a' ya who work at their own leisure and convenience. Dependin' on Master Skelter's orders, ya shall either be placed on the diggin' committee or within the timber camps. The manner in which ya complete yer tasks shall vary, ya'll either work as an independent or be partnered up with a fellow prisoner. Independent and partner days shall alternate," Watson's voice suddenly dropped to a lower pitch, and he turned to face the women with a smile spread across his round face, "As fer ya women folk, the guards of Devil's Island would kindly like to allow ya special privileges ," Watson's words provoked lewd chuckles from his fellow guards and he winked in the direction of the female prisoners, "If you ladies decide to volunteer yer charitable nightly services ta a guard of yer choice, ya shall be rewarded wit a delicious meal and be allowed ta sleep two extra hours; taking ta bed an hour early and rising an hour late. Now, without further adieu, pick yer lazy feet up an' follow me."

--

The heat was an excruciating and unforgiving force. Along the five mile trudge through burning sand to the cells, at least seven prisoners fell to their knees from dehydration and exhaustion. This action was rewarded by a swift kick to the ribs. Moans, sobs, and the sounds of retching filled the air. Mrs. Lovett, having lost a good amount of blood, stood hoisted upon the shoulders of two women. During the first two miles of the journey, her vision had distorted into a thick blur, and she had begun to sway about on her feet. In a short instant, two women were at her side. One woman, a timid, rail thin woman with fine strands of straight blonde hair and small green eyes had situated herself to Mrs. Lovett's right. A second woman with a broad smile, black waist length hair, and friendly brown eyes had held up her left side.

"We can't very well have you falling all over the place, now can we love?"

The dark hair woman had mused, and as they ventured further into the lush vegetation of the jungle, she began to collect thick green leaves which oozed a strong smelling liquid. Mrs. Lovett had forced a slight smile and shook her head. Curiosity had filled Mrs. Lovett as she witnessed the dark haired woman's actions, but she dare not attempt to speak just yet, for fear that the extra exertion may lead to fainting. The blonde woman gripped the ripped edges of her dress, and pulled them together in an attempt to provide Mrs. Lovett with a scrap of modesty and at the same time cease the bleeding.

An eternity seemed to pass before the multiple rows of tiny white cement huts came into view. Each small hut contained a red brick roof, and the walls were coated with chipped white paint. The first hundred huts already held occupants. These prisoners would scream harsh obscenities at the guards and shove scabbed fists through the barred windows. A dusty path had been formed between the rows of multiple huts, and the prisoners were escorted down it. Ever so often, the guards would instruct the lines to cease their march, and groups of names were read off. A guard would remove a large key from around their neck in order to unlock the barred gate at the entrance of the hut. The prisoners assigned to each individual hut would hang their heads and abandon all remaining hope as they entered the small facility. After each of these pitiful rituals was complete, the line would continue their journey.

Mrs. Lovett watched as the lines grew thinner, and soon the once massive group had been reduced to twenty-four prisoners consisting of twelve men, and twelve women. The small group finished their miserable journey in front of the last hut on the row.

"Due to the vast amounts of prisoners and the new laws incorporating women into the encampment, our grounds are in desperate need of new huts. Until we receive the proper funding to aid in completing said task, this last hut shall be shared by males and females. Regulations shall be strictly enforced, and punishments shall be reinforced as needed."

The tall thin guard made his statement and pulled out a list from his pocket. Clearing his throat, he read the first assignment.

" Dottie Ingrid Dourden, Emily Swift, and Nellie Lovett, enter and proceed to cell one."

Mrs. Lovett and her companions quickly entered the hut, the women had no desire to anger the guard, and therefore rapidly complied.

Mrs. Lovett took an unstable step into the desolate lodging which she would be forced to call home for the remainder of her years. The damp air was full of floating dust particles, and an abundant amount of cobwebs had settled into each corner of the hut. Two separate rows of four cramped cells each were divided by a dirt encrusted path. As the three women stepped into the cell nearest to the door, Mrs. Lovett felt the blonde women's body begin to tremble with quiet sobs. Still weak from her previous ordeal, Mrs. Lovett was unable to gather the amount of energy necessary for choosing appropriate words of comfort. Instead, she silently placed her hand in the frail women's palm. The weeping woman squeezed Mrs. Lovett's hand, and covered her reddened eyes with her other palm. There were no benches present in the cell, so the women each chose a spot on the dirt covered floor and silently sat down. Moments later, other prisoners began to stumble into the hut, coughing and swearing.

"Lean forward," A kind voice whispered in Mrs. Lovett's ear. Mrs. Lovett gazed at the black haired women with bewilderment. The women held six green leaves and a mound of cobwebs in one hand. She smiled at Mrs. Lovett's confusion, and reassured her, "Trust me dearie, it's for your own good."

Mrs. Lovett found a calming measure of comfort and trust in the women's words, and she complied. The woman swept back Mrs. Lovett's hair, and began to smooth the liquid ooze from the leaves over each individual cut. When that task was complete, she gently filled each gaping gash with the cobwebs. The women nodded her head in approval, and satisfied with a job well done, she rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Mrs. Lovett shot a glance to the blonde woman, who was now fast asleep, in the opposite corner of the cell. The liquid and cobwebs on Mrs. Lovett's back proved to provide her with a serene feeling of calm, and she felt her pain subside. Carefully, as not to disturb the healing cuts, she rested her back against the bars of the cell. Exhaustion made her eyelids grow heavy, and she soon became lost in the escape provided by sleep.

--

Pain, thick and searing shot through her body as she felt her shoulders being pulled upon. She was being yanked backward by a constricting grip on both of her shoulders, and her raw wounds were being rubbed harshly against the cold steel of the cell bars. Mrs. Lovett's breathe hitched in her throat and she shot trembling hands to her shoulders in an attempt to free herself from the grip that held her captive. Her fingers encountered icy flesh, so cold that it chilled her to the bone.

The extremely close proximity of the two cells had made the task of grabbing Mrs. Lovett virtually unproblematic and simple. All one had to do was merely reach their arm through the bars, and they could come into immediate contact with their cell neighbors.

"I can't say that fate has been particularly kind to you, Mrs. Lovett. However, it appears that a higher power has been working in my favor."

The malicious words were spoken at a soft volume, directly into Mrs. Lovett's ear. She could feel the man's warm breath on her neck, causing her hair to stand on end. Her captor's grip tightened and stabbed into her flesh, as he roughly tugged on her shoulders once more, causing her aching back to slam into the bars once more. Mrs. Lovett whimpered, and desperately attempted to cry out for help. The dehydration combined with dwindled strength had transformed her voice into a strained whisper. Night had cast its ebony blanket over the cells, but Mrs. Lovett knew that her cell mates were deep in slumber. The telltale snores of the guard at the front gate indicated that help would not be swift in its arrival.

Acting quickly, Mrs. Lovett fiercely dug her nails into the harsh hands of the man causing his grip to subside. Finally released, she whirled around to face her captor. Her gaze immediately met the wicked blaze of hatred glowing wildly within Sweeney Todd's eyes. The deranged man's orbs held a glint of malice; its presence was so intense that it appeared to glow against the dark of the night. Sweeney Todd's eyes sent unspoken threats to Mrs. Lovett, sizing her up, similar to a predator evaluating its prey.

"Do you truly believe you could escape, sins left uncompensated? I wager that those were your exact thoughts, conniving bitch that you are. Well, I am here to serve a purpose, pet; to collect that which you owe to me for your transgressions and I assure you, you shall pay dearly."

Sweeney Todd spoke his threat in a menacingly baritone voice, and shooting his arm through the bars once again, his viselike grip captured her throat.

--

**Once again, thank you for reading, loves!**


	3. To Dig Your Own Grave

_**Hello everyone!! All of you are simply amazing…seriously, I never thought this story was going to do as well as it's been doing, and you all have made it possible (I wrote a more detailed "thank you" section at end of this very long chapter). This chapter was fun to write, although it did give me some difficulty at times. I really look forward to June when my class load is reduced to one course (ASL) and I shall be able to update more frequently. Please read and review loves, I want to know what you think since this idea has rarely been used (if at all), and I would like to see if my readers like where this is headed. Enjoy)- Chrys.**_

**MY READERS, I NEED YOUR HELP: Does anyone out there happen to have a more than basic knowledge of European history, general history, and/or ancient religious practices?? Don't worry, I'm not trying to ask anyone to do my homeowork for me. lol. I seek this knowledge because of a work of fanfiction, and I also need an opinion...so please please write to me if you can help or are interested. Thank you- Chrys**

_**--**__****_

Sweeney Todd sat motionless and silent within the darkened confinement of his cell, a pale statue carved by rigid contours and harsh features. It appeared that the barber had abandoned even the simple act of respiration, as if mere breaths wouldn't dare to cross the wicked curl of his thin lips. Twin pools of liquid ebony completed this formidable picture of madness. The soulless black shade of his unblinking eyes blended perfectly with the midnight blanket the cold night had cast over the sleeping prisoners. Upon Sweeney Todd's otherwise stiffened form, a slight motion could be identified. The muscles of Todd's arm contracted in determination, and at the end of his unyielding limb, an unfortunate Mrs. Lovett was being held captive. The delicate bones of her neck were being slowly compressed beneath Todd's palm.

Short bursts of white light obstructed her eyesight. Her large brown eyes watered and widened in terror, as her hazy vision sought out some form of rescue from her captor's grasp. As her gaze fell upon her slumbering and oblivious cell mates, she reluctantly acknowledged the alarming possibility that rescue may not arrive in time. Mrs. Lovett's form writhed desperately as her slim throat was crushed beneath Todd's cruel fingertips. Her once pallid face now displayed sickly bluish hues, and her bare feet scraped across the cool stone floor in an unsuccessful escape attempt. As the woman's lips widened in a pathetic effort to capture any measure of air, a strangled gurgle managed to escape her discolored lips.

"Mr. T..," Mrs. Lovett gasped in a pained whisper, using her fingernails to claw frantically at the merciless grip which constricted her frail windpipe. The panicked baker felt the security of consciousness begin to drain from her form as the white bursts of light were being quickly replaced by patches of black.

_The bloody sadist 'as already made up 'is mind that 'e wants me out 'a this world and sent into the next…why doesn't 'e jus' finish the task at hand?_

The enraged woman pondered this fact, as she was being slowly robbed of her right of life at the hands of a heartless thief. Her body was nearing the end of its struggle, her straining muscles had lost the majority of their tension, and she began to slump against the bars of her cell.

At that critical moment, just as the strings of life had begun to unravel from around Mrs. Lovett's form, Sweeney Todd proceeded to lean forward slowly. Bringing up a free hand to brush back Mrs. Lovett's tangled curls, the man placed his lips within inches of her ear and emitted a barely audible whisper.

"Did you truly believe I would allow you to escape that easily, pet?" Sweeney Todd hissed in indignation, as he further increased the force of his grip around her throat, "Patience is a virtue, as you well know, and blessings come to those who…wait. Isn't that what you claimed, love? I could steal the life directly from your pathetic lungs this very night. Or death could arrive tomorrow, as promised as the rising of the sun. Regardless of the time or location, revenge will be taken, but the act shall not be committed in haste."

After Todd spat his venomous threats, he rapidly released Mrs. Lovett with a harsh shove, causing the frantically gasping woman to fall forward onto her belly. Mrs. Lovett, still stunned from her ordeal, hadn't collected enough strength to raise her weight from its fallen position. However, this factor didn't detour the frightened woman from rapidly crawling to the corner of her cell. Hugging her knees to her body, she inhaled deeply in an effort to feed her weak and deprived lungs. Mrs. Lovett trembled fiercely in her corner and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as small and helpless as a beaten child.

Soon her breathing regained its familiar rhythm. The fact that she had finally succeeded in putting a bit of distance between Todd's hand and her throat caused her heart to steady in her chest. As the moments passed by, she could slowly feel her mental composure rise above the thick cloud of fear and uncertainty

_Stop actin' like a useless whelp. You're still alive, Nellie. You're alive, you're alive, you're alive…_

Mrs. Lovett forced her eyes open, and immediately regretted her overzealous decision. The sight that met her frightened gaze forced her to rethink the validity of her previous notions. Todd's predatory glare hadn't shifted its position, and continued to scan her features with blatant scrutiny. The dreadful man made no effort to conceal his evil smirk and malicious amusement. Surely, the blood starved barber would do everything in his power to complete two last tasks. Without a doubt, Todd would first ensure that every remaining moment of her life was lived in hellish misery. When that first task was complete, he would see to it that her life would come to a devastating halt at his hands. Sweeney Todd had the means and ability to guarantee her a grisly death, and she was certain that not a bloody thing would be done about it.

On this island, in this sweltering corner of hell, justice had become an unnecessary luxury and an annoyance to the officials in charge. Besides, of what significance was justice to a filthy criminal? Her lifeless body would be buried in an unmarked grave, and vacant cell space would be granted to the next unfortunate soul. No one would bat an eyelash, or even glance briefly in Todd's direction. Not a single word of reprimand would be flung his way. The insolent barber would continue to breath, sleep, and smirk as she lay rotting.

_I suppose there's only one question worth askin' now Nellie; wha' can ya' do ta' avoid such a fate?_

The clear jangling of keys and the shrill pitch of a whistle banished Mrs. Lovett's thoughts and roused numerous moaning prisoners from the sanctuary of their dreams. Mrs. Lovett had become so enveloped within the trappings of her own ordeal that she hadn't noticed the glare of sunbeams creeping through the barred windows of her cell. The brunette olive skinned woman, who had lay snoring upon the floor of the cell, slowly opened her eyes to a half-lidded state. She made no effort to contain a wide-mouthed yawn as she gently nudged the petite blonde woman who had curled into the fetal position against the wall. The blonde whimpered softly in protest, but quickly stiffened her posture into a sitting position at the sound of heavy boots making contact with the stone floor.

" Good morning me lovelies," The brunette muttered in a husky tone, as she stretched her arms above her head and cast warm brown eyes to Mrs. Lovett and the quivering blonde.

"The names Emily Swift," As soon as the woman finished her sentence, her nose wrinkled in disgust, as if a foul odor had invaded her nostrils, "Never cared much for the Emily portion of the name though. Therefore, me chums calls me Swift…and I wager we may as well be bloody swell chums at this point. You ladies have names of your own, voices of your own even? Or are we doomed to spend the rest of eternity together in silence?" Swift chuckled heartily at her own clever antics, and stuck out a strong hand in the direction of the two women.

Mrs. Lovett was thoroughly impressed by the woman's ability to smile and display a bit of wit, even from the floor of a prison cell. The curious baker studied the woman's face. Everything about the Swift's features appeared to be alive and beaming. There was a measure of comfort to be found in her wide brown eyes, round childish cheeks, and large teeth, all of which were white with the exception of a small black spot upon the lower row.

Despite the hopelessness of her current condition, Mrs. Lovett attempted to match Swift's smile, and firmly grasped the woman's large hand, figuring that any form of companionship was a blessing on this desolate piece of earth.

"Name's Nellie Lovett, pleased ta' make yer acquaintance dearie," Mrs. Lovett stated as she tightened her grip on Swift's hand. A thin layer of calm settled upon Mrs. Lovett as she made the realization that for the first time in months, someone had made the decision to take her side.

"Aww, so the brave one speaks. Pleased as pie to meet you Nellie." Swift declared through a wide smile in a delighted tone.

Both women turned their attention to the small figure, huddling in the corner like a wounded kitten. Mrs. Lovett felt pity strike deep within her heart, for no more than an hour ago, had she been driven into that very corner, trembling violently in genuine fear. The baker's features softened in sympathy, and she opened her mouth to offer gentle words of comfort. Her good intentions were hastily interrupted.

"To yer feet ya miserable creatures, I 'ave news fer ya'. Ya should all be honored ta' know, that yer presence 'as been requested by Master Skelter 'imself," A broad shouldered man with a protruding gut barked at the prisoners. The sweaty fellow chuckled deeply, causing his enormous belly to shake violently. Mrs. Lovett instantly recognized the rotund gentlemen as Watson, the warden's second in command.

The creaking of rusty cell bars filled the air as trembling prisoners slowly shuffled to exit the hut, each of them dreading their unknown fates.

"D-D-Dottie…In-n-grrr—idd Da-da- Dourden," The blonde woman whispered, a heavy stutter characterizing her soft syllables. Her eyes remained downcast failed to as her sentence faded into the humid air.

Mrs. Lovett gently grasped the frail woman's tiny hand as the barred door of their cell was flung open with a ringing CLANG.

"Come along now love. Jus' stick ta me, an' we'll conquer this day yet, I promise ya that," Mrs. Lovett whispered, silently doubting her own words of encouragement, and cursing herself for making promises she couldn't possibly hold true to. As the baker set foot upon the burning sand, she realized that she never expected to feel such intense pangs of reluctance upon leaving the confinement of her dreadful cell.

**--******

Mrs. Lovett was certain she was being burnt alive, her skin allowed to cook, blister, and roast. In no time at all she was destined to be reduced to ashes. Mrs. Lovett silently cursed herself for constantly scoffing at the cool atmosphere associated with London weather. _"Always bloody rainin ,' "_ she had whined,_" Wot I wouldn't give for a glimpse of the sun" _she had said.

_Stupid, stupid woman..ya' surely got wot ya asked for, did ya not?_ Mrs. Lovett thought spitefully as she struggled to place one foot in front of the other. The oppressive presence of the sun had demolished nearly all forms of potential shade. Prisoners were instructed to remain on the open path, steering clear of the small shadows cast by the palm trees. Even the winds had failed to make an appearance, as the ill-fated troop was left vulnerable to the beating rays of the sun Heat, thick and biting, coated every last one of the twenty-four sweating prisoners who trudged through piles of burning white sand and faded brown dirt.

Finally, mercifully, Watson's whistle broke the silence, signaling that the herd had reached their final destination. Mrs. Lovett raised a hand to banish droplets of sweat from her reddened brow as she observed her surroundings. The group of prisoners where standing in the center of a dirt trail. All grains of white sand had disappeared a few miles back, and they currently stood on dark brown earth. Multiple outlines of footprints were visible upon the hardened dirt. There were several feet of free space along the edges of the trail where numerous trees appeared to have been removed. An eerie silence hung over Mrs. Lovett's surroundings with the exception of a curious murmur coming from the troop of exhausted prisoners.

Suddenly, a rustling of trees and the appearance of a tall figure sent a stunned hush over the group. Skelter took a quick step forward in order to stand before the frightened crowd, his action causing the front rows to fall back in alarm. His tall figure, clad entirely in black, was a formidable sight indeed. Mrs. Lovett caught a slight glimpse of the hated leather whip hanging loosely at his side. The image brought back vivid memories of her suffering from the previous day and fierce shivers ran down the woman's spine, despite the scorching nature of the weather.

A sly smile decorated the man's thin lips, and the motion caused the harsh angle of his cheekbones to jut sharply from the edges of his face. Sending fiendish topaz eyes over the crowd, the tyrant issued his orders.

"I trust you all slept well, judging from your extreme tardiness, lazy incompetent filth that you are. Fortunately for you, the only punishment I shall inflict is the deprivation of your breakfast privileges," The man lowered his voice, narrowed his vision, and scanned the crowd. His threatening gaze appeared to lock directly upon Mrs. Lovett and his eyes flashed menacingly, "However, mark my words, your next transgression will not be rewarded with such mercy."

The man cleared his throat and continued in a less intimidating tone, "Your task for today is simple, and I trust you shall have little trouble completing it, for the simple fact that your inability to comply shall result in unfavorable consequences. As many of you can see, a number of trees have been cleared out from the edges of this trail by the hands of previous prisoners. That particular action has been completed for one reason; to make your job as the digging committee extremely uncomplicated. Women will line up parallel to the left side of the trail, ten feet apart. Men are to do the same to the right side. The required quota of the day is to dig a hole, a hole with a width wide enough to accommodate a standing body. The depth should be deep enough so that the hole's edges stand half a foot taller than each woman's head, and two feet taller than each man's head. Loose dirt is to be flung to the middle of the trail and positioned in a neat pile. I expect this task to be completed by dusk, and failure to meet quota will result in a starvation penalty. Watson will disperse the necessary equipment," Skelter completed his statement, and snapped his fingers, the noise sending Watson and ten other guards to disappear within the crowd.

Following the example of her fellow prisoners, Mrs. Lovett tightened her grip upon Dottie's quavering hand and hastily stumbled to the left side of the trail. Swift, taking long strides, followed her two companions.

"How does that horrid man expect us to function properly without a scrap of food or drop of water?" The woman stated with a scowl and forceful shake of her head.

Before Mrs. Lovett could offer an answer, a lanky guard, clad in a white shirt and brown britches, was upon the trio. The guard's face grew increasingly red as he reached within the grey sack he hauled upon his back. Drawing out three shovels, each no more than sixteen inches long, he tossed the undersized tools to the ground.

"This ain't a bloody tea party, separate and get ta' work if ya value yer hides," The man ordered in a rough voice.

At the given command, Mrs. Lovett and Swift moved the required ten feet apart, allowing Dottie to remain in her spot. The blonde woman was barely breathing and appeared to be rooted firmly in place by her fear.

After a short few moments, the prisoners fell into correct order on either side of the trail.

Watson sauntered slowly down the center of the trail, surveying the position of each prisoner. His journey came to a slow halt as he reached the end of the path. Placing thick, spittle rimmed lips around a whistle, he produced a high pitched tone which brought all sets of eyes in his direction.

"Cell 861, begin yer task," The man bellowed, allowing the click of his musket to act as a threat for potential escapees.

As he spoke his next sentence, a devious grin played over his features.

"Oh, and remember me lovelies, all it takes is a generous offer ta the guard a' yer choice, and half a' the burden shall be removed from your pretty lil' shoulders," Watson eyed the women's labor line and licked his lips, slobber dripping from the corners.

**--******

Mrs. Lovett was unable to tear her gaze away from her palms. Embedded within the pale flesh, were tiny wooden splinters. The flesh surrounding each small wooden plank had reddened with dried blood, and the small shovel was the guilty culprit. The useless piece of rusted steel was no match for the harshly compacted dirt, and often collided harshly with large pieces of buried rock. As each hour passed, Mrs. Lovett's energy escaped through every pore of her tortured body. Each of her muscles betrayed her and screamed their protests in the form of a burning ache. However, it wasn't the nature of the task which had triggered her exhaustion. It was the merciless heat, the force of which had slowly caused countless women to drop to their knees over the course of the day. Every hour, Watson, or some other pompous official, made a "water round". Each prisoner was rewarded with a single sip of brown water from a large wooden bucket. The bucket was strapped to the back of a balding elderly man. Emaciation plagued the poor fellow, for his ribs were prominent beneath a taut layer of skin. The foolish pairs of parched lips that dared to beg for a second sip received two quick lashes in return. This blatant denial of basic hydration had produced countless fainting spells, sickened sounds of dry heaving, and pitiful sobs.

_At leas' I'm still standin.' Jus' continue ta' move an' it'll all be over soon,_

Mrs. Lovett thought as she bent over to penetrate the ground with her shovel. After adding a few extra inches of dirt to her pile, the baker glanced down to evaluate her progress. Seeing that she now stood knee deep within her hole, she paused to scan the other women along the labor line. Swift worked diligently to Mrs. Lovett's right, concentration etched deeply within her features and her broad shoulders contracting with every heave of dirt. Further down, a trembling Dottie sat upon the edge of her shallow hole, and inhaled deeply. Along the line, other women's faces were stained with streaks, and whether the source was tears, blood, or sweat, could not be certain.

Across the path, the men seemed to be suffering the ill consequences of the harrowing conditions as well. Deep throated grunts of pain filled the air as dirt clumps were flung upward. However, there was a noticeable difference present between the two weakened groups; the holes on the right side of the trail were deeper, and the majority of the male labor line had managed to remain on their feet. Mrs. Lovett was very aware of the fact that broadened shoulders and thickened muscles had a great impact on the matter, but as she took a second glance at the men, she noted another significant characteristic. Every last man had removed his shirt and tied the sweat drenched piece of cloth around his forehead, with the exception of that devil Mr. T, who was nowhere in sight. Small gusts of air hit the men's bare chests and the cloth tied about their foreheads prevented the droplets of sweat from stinging their eyes. More importantly, the damp cloth acted as a shield from the unforgiving sun. No doubt, this half-robbed state had put the males at an advantage in comparison to the women, who remained fully clothed in their multi-layered garments of lace and velvet.

Mrs. Lovett ran disapproving eyes over the pathetic state of her own dress. The costly purple silk was adorned with soft lace, and had once been her most prized possession. She had purchased the frivolous garment back in London, hoping to achieve a single goal. That one goal, so unattainable in its nature, was to be rewarded with a single glance of approval from Mr. Sweeney Todd. Mrs. Lovett believed that if the sullen man ever set his darkened eyes upon her, the ebony orbs filled with any emotion besides blood lust, she could die a million happy deaths. Yet her goals were left unfulfilled. Not a single word of kindness had fallen upon her ears, her skin had been left yearning for a compassionate touch, and Todd's eyes had remained transfixed to his razors, never once falling upon her dress. Digging her nails into the already torn material, Mrs. Lovett scoffed in disgust.

_The bloody garment was useless then, and it remains useless ta' this very day._

Mrs. Lovett began to frantically rip the dress from her body, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. The purple and black fabric pooled at her feet, and was soon followed by numerous layers of white cotton. Finally, a victorious Mrs. Lovett stood knee deep in her hole, clad only in the white cloth of her ankle length pantaloons and a lacy undershirt. A grin of sweet relief erupted across her features, as a slight breeze made its way through the thin layer of her clothing. As the finishing touch to her new uniform, Mrs. Lovett tore a piece of ivory colored cloth from her shift and tied it around her forehead. The blessed cloth served to prevent both her unruly auburn curls, and multiple droplets of sweat from invading her eyes. With her accomplishment a success, the determined baker set to work.

"FOUR HOUR CALL, FOUR HOUR CALL!!" Watson's booming voice sent out the alert in order to warn the slower prisoners of their dwindling time.

Fighting to dig past endless layers of brown dirt and grey rock, Mrs. Lovett clung to every last ounce of her draining strength in order to meet her quota. The woman's eyes were locked downward in concentration, never once straying from her task, not even to examine the blue shades of the sky above her head. With each passing hour, her measly pile of dirt had made the transformation into a miniature mountain. Slowly, but certainly, the edges of the gaping hole rose to half foot above her head. After tossing the last particles of dirt upon the pile, she threw her head back and laughed aloud in triumph. She stood successfully at the bottom of the hole, the blisters of her aching feet compensated by cool granite rock. Pressing her sun scorched back against the cold earth of the hole's edge, she allowed her throbbing muscles and rattled bones to slump to into a sitting position at the bottom of the pit. Finding contentment and satisfaction within the shade of the freshly dug abyss, Mrs. Lovett felt her eyelids flutter to a close.

Without warning, a stream of dirt, heavy and damp, rained down upon the baker's shoulders. The pressure of the falling particles sent Mrs. Lovett into an instant state of alert. Immediately glancing upward, a dark shadow, outlined by the yellow haze of the sun, filled Mrs. Lovett's vision. The panicked woman leapt to her feet and strained her tired eyes in order to identify her tormentor. Soon, through the fierce haze of sunlight, a set of cold, rigid features came clearly into view.

Sweeney Todd stood at the edge of the abyss. The barber had planted one foot within the pile of freshly plowed earth that sat conveniently close to the edge of the cavity. A cold smirk greeted Mrs. Lovett's frightened eyes. Without uttering a sound, Todd swept his foot over the dirt pile yet again, causing more dirt to tumble into the abyss.

"Mr. Todd, wot in God's name, do ya think ya are doin'?" Mrs. Lovett inquired. The woman attempted to tame her voice into a calm tone, but felt instantly suffocated by waves of alarm.

Todd's black eyes scanned Mrs. Lovett's features, as a sneer caused the corner of his lips to curl slightly, "Are you daft, woman? Or blind? I'm refilling the bloody pit."

Mrs. Lovett gazed up at Todd in utter disbelief. The man intended to see her starve. She watched in horror as a new avalanche of dirt cascaded down the wall. Seeds of rage began to sprout within Mrs. Lovett, and she was forced to suppress a crazed laugh, as a new realization danced wildly about in her head. All of her work and efforts, everything she had left to speak of in the area of accomplishments, was a mountain of dirt. She allowed her indignation to boil and expand at the thought that Todd was intent on demolishing even that. Positioning her hands upon the edge of the crevice, Mrs. Lovett strained to lift her body weight to level ground. Brushing the dirt from her hands and rising to a standing position, Mrs. Lovett placed her body directly in front of Sweeney Todd.

"You will cease at once, Mr. Todd," The woman firmly stated her demand, fists clenched. Mrs. Lovett brought her face within inches of Todd's smoldering gaze, challenging his actions.

Todd locked gazes with Mrs. Lovett, his eyes ablaze. Yet the man maintained silence. Sweeney Todd's eyes remained fastened to Mrs. Lovett's widened orbs, and in response to the baker's command, he slowly swept his foot forward in order to knock yet another large clump of dirt into the hole.

Bringing his lips close to Mrs. Lovett's ear, the barber whispered mockingly, "Memorize this sight for future instances, pet, for this is all that your words will ever signify to me. Dirt, filthy, worthless dirt."

Todd drew his face away from Mrs. Lovett's ear, and continued to kick at the pile.

Mrs. Lovett' fingernails dug deep within her palms, and her face burned with a reddened shade of rage. Her racing pulse began to pound in her ears with the steady rhythm of a battle drum. The baker had no concept of what overtook her at that point. She didn't feel the muscles of her arm start to tense and contract. Surely, it wasn't her fist which clenched and tightened as it shot forward. Most of all, she failed to feel the harsh contact her knuckles made with Sweeney Todd's nose, or hear the satisfying crack of bone descending upon bone.

The baker jerked back in shocked disbelief at her own actions, as the barber brought blood coated fingers away from his stunned face.

Todd gazed down at his blood stained fingers. Blood upon Todd's hands wasn't something out of the ordinary; the barber had eagerly painted countless throats with the same crimson shade. However, the sight of his _own _blood upon his hands was appalling.

Gazing at the tiny baker in disbelief, Todd allowed his eyes to wander over his unlikely opponent, until a sight caught his eye. It was a sight which shoved the barber into an altered state once again; Mrs. Lovett's fist was coated with the splatter of his blood.

Throughout the entire murderous rampage Todd had waged upon London, not a single soul had been successful in drawing blood from the demon barber's form. His victims had made valiant attempts; weakened limbs had shot forth in his direction in a last hope to maim their assailant, seconds before their bodies descended down the chute. None had accomplished their goal, and that fact had given Todd a sense of invincibility. Therefore the thought that Mrs. Lovett, insufferable and conniving bitch that she was, had been the single individual successful in producing his bloodshed, had blinded Todd with anger.

Violent currents of astonished fury sent a fierce tremble through Todd's body. Stepping forward until his form stood directly before hers, the barber brought swift hands up to grasp Mrs. Lovett's shoulders, his grip biting harshly into her sensitive flesh. Mrs. Lovett winced at the force of Todd's fingers, but continued to stand her ground and maintain eye contact with her attacker.

"It appears, Mrs. Lovett, that you have successfully dug your own grave," Todd hissed ferociously, and shoved against the startled baker's shoulders.

A shrill scream tore from Mrs. Lovett's lips, as she tumbled backwards. The descent from level ground back to the bottom of the abyss was a short, but difficult journey. A journey which Mrs. Lovett did not make gracefully. Brown dirt stained her white cotton garments as she came into contact with the hole's edges. Particles of earth and small pebbles coated her hair as her flailing form crashed to the bottom of the hole with a loud thud. Stunned and enraged, she lay motionless, a pitiful heap of stained clothing and bruised limbs. The woman's form was soon followed by a cascade of thick dirt, courtesy of Todd's determined foot. The heavy particles descended, covering her hair and shoulders and settling within her mouth, eyes, and nostrils.

As Mrs. Lovett sputtered and gagged, her determination began to grow once again. The baker couldn't allow it, wouldn't allow it; Mrs. Lovett had come too far to allow herself to be buried alive by this man's hate. The woman leapt to her feet, and grabbed the edge of the hole. As soon as she was able to successfully gaze over the edge, past the cloud of dirt, she spotted her target. With a swift lunge her hands latched tightly around Todd's right ankle, and she yanked upon it with all the force left in her exhausted limbs.

A shocked Sweeney Todd immediately lost all balance as his form came crashing down to the floor with a rough growl. His back made contact with hard dirt as he sent a hateful gaze to the woman who was currently dangling at the edge of the crevice by his foot.

" Let me out of this blasted hole, ya hateful, sadistic bastard! Ya 'ave no right wotsoever , ta' treat me so shamefully!," Mrs. Lovett screamed at Todd from the edge of the abyss. She dug her fingernails into the flesh of his ankle and twisted with all her might.

Small twinges of pain shot up Todd's ankle, yet the man refused to be detoured from the task at hand. Planting his free foot upon Mrs. Lovett's heaving chest, the man uttered his words in a wickedly baritone voice.

"If not for your reprehensible lies, Lucy would still be breathing. I have every right to send you directly into the pits of hell," Todd stated through clenched teeth as he ground his foot into Mrs. Lovett's chest, and shoved.

The force of Todd's foot forced Mrs. Lovett's hands to unlatch from around his ankle, and the baker shrieked as she collapsed to the bottom once again. The woman felt a shudder of defeat and fright course through her as the sun disappeared over the horizon. Watson sounded his whistle, a sharp ring which signaled that all attempts must come to an end.

**--******

He had witnessed it all, the woman's screams and flailing arms. Amusement flickered across the wicked contours of Skelter's face. The manner in which those eyes flashed with violent determination as she had struck her pale assailant with a reddened fist,had caught his attention. Skelter was aware of the atrocious conditions associated with the infamous island, and the warden was ardently devoted in assuring that his prisoners roamed about with their heads bowed and spirits shattered. Courage and nerve were rarities amongst the thousands of broken prisoners. It was especially uncommon, for such characteristics to be present in the form of a mere female.

Ten of Skelter's subordinates had sprinted toward the commotion with muskets firmly in tow, only be stopped dead in their tracks by Skelter's raised palm.

The warden emitted a malicious chuckle and stated to his troops, "What's the harm in a bit of entertainment?"

Eager not to displease their honorable commander, the only physical restraint enforced was upon a fuming Swift. The tall woman struggled against the arms of guards in an attempt to provide aide to her screaming companion. It required four guards to prevent Swift's muscular frame from darting in Mrs. Lovett's direction.

A delighted Skelter watched and waited. At the sound of Watson's whistle, the tall warden strolled over to the dirt covered pair.

"Be gone."

Skelter issued the stern command to Sweeney Todd. The barber locked eyes with the warden for a prolonged moment and smirked. Then sharply turning, Todd slowly made his way to the right edge of the path.

Skelter sauntered to the hole and peered over its edge at the dirt covered woman. He ran an eye over her shivering form, and a sardonic smile spread over his lips as her large brown eyes rose to meet his.

"I'm confident, my poor dear, that you are well aware of the penalty for failure to complete an assigned task." Skelter snapped his fingers, summoning Watson to his side.

"This prisoner is off by half an inch, issue her the starvation penalty."

**--******

A blanket of midnight air had descended upon Devil's Island, driving out a measure of the unbearable heat associated with the scorch of the sun. Foam brimmed waves of the ocean lapped gently against the sands of the shore, creating a soft lullaby. Faded bursts of glowing light produced by fireflies decorated the ebony tapestry. The sight was one painted by the hand serenity, disrupted only by the harsh clanging of iron.

Mrs. Lovett stood amongst a crowd of seven prisoners, composed entirely of women. Shackles bit deeply into the sun burnt flesh of their ankles and wrists. The entire line had been bound together by a single chain, and they stood huddled as one large group. No more than a few yards away, a second group of seventeen prisoners stood.

The second group waited patiently outside of a large white tent, surrounded by twelve whip clutching guards. The white cloth of the tent was held up by a number of splintered wooden planks. Boisterous laughter mingling with the clink of tin mugs could be heard from the outside of the tent, evidence that the guards were enjoying their sumptuous feast. Every so often, the flaps of the tent were opened, and heaps of leftovers in the forms of chicken bones, apple cores, and bread crusts, were tossed upon the sand in front of the starving prisoners.

Pitiful cries begging for mercy were emitted from the group of women who had been issued the starvation penalty. Mrs. Lovett was forced stand to the side and witness as the more fortunate crowd of prisoners swarmed upon the pile of food. Her stomach knotted and cramped with the cruel pangs of hunger as she watched numerous scraps disappear into salivating mouths. Many of the women surrounding her had fallen to their knees, allowing sobs to overtake them. Truth be told, the baker herself wasn't entirely certain that her sanity still remained intact. For only a demented woman could have had the ability to remain on her feet and calmly observe the scene before her.

However it was one factor, and one factor only, which was keeping Mrs. Lovett on her feet.

Sweeney Todd's patronizing gaze was all the fuel Mrs. Lovett required to remain silently rooted in place. Without breaking eye contact with the seething baker, Todd repeatedly lifted a slice of sweet apple to his lips. She watched as the juices of the succulent fruit dribbled slowly down his chin. Mrs. Lovett was familiar enough with Sweeney Todd to recognize that his consumption of each delectable scrap had little to do with hunger, and everything to do with mockery. Mrs. Lovett knew all too well, that Sweeney Todd fed off of fear and intimidation, and he wanted nothing more than to watch her break. Todd craved tear brimmed eyes, slumped and trembling shoulders, a body wracked by uncontrollable sobs, and pleas for mercy.

_Mr. Todd, you are indeed sadly mistaken, if ya believe I'm ta depart this hellhole without a fight_.

Satisfaction washed over Mrs. Lovett as her gaze landed upon the bruised tint which decorated Todd's upper lip. If the barber was intent on waging a war, she would need to devise a battle plan.

**--******

**A couple of extra points:**

**1. Ok so I really think that the following folks deserve an extra THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! and HUGS:**

riceandchopstixs,silver and rubies, Silverbone, Miss Poisonous,

Lizzienuss88, SakuraLeeChan, hoteltokio, Full-Metal-Darkness, Shyaway, Elven Apparition, AngelofDarkness1605, ShadowedElegance, friska-freak, ByTheBeautifulSea,

MrsMargeryLovett, Marzi, PiratePrincess29, LivelyLenore, VerelLupin, shmokki, The Bloody Wonder, Astria07, Lobsters forever, BritishDracoLuvr, ABloodyWonder, sarahisaninja ,**and the lovely** Just a Little Crazy !! **I seriously admire each of you for keeping an open mind, and reading this story, since I know that the idea is semi-unusual and rarely used.**

**2. FOR THE SWEENETT LOVERS OUT THERE: I am a devoted supporter of that psychotic duo, and I PROMISE that this story will have heavy duty M rated Sweenett in in…but it has to develop and happen in time. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE LOVE LOVE all one shots out there, and fics which get down to the get down right away) I just have this love for the anticipation and build up of tension between two people..so that's the way I'm going to write this…but, again, I PROMISE SWEENETT so hang in there loves)**

**3. I know a lot of people are out there may be wondering why the heck the prisoners are digging holes, but I swear I have a purpose and it will be explained later.**

**4. Please let me know if I'm doing a good job at writing Skelter as a villain so far.…he's a very evil man…and trust me he gets much worse.**

**5. Hope the length of the chap wasn't too much for anyone.**

**6. If Mrs. Lovett seems OOC to anyone, keep this in mind: Despite any amount of undying devotion this woman has for Sweeney Todd, she is entitled to be VERY angry at this point. He tried to kill her, put her on Devil's Island, and saw to it that she went hungry. If I were placed in her shitty position, I'd be one hungry and pissed off bitch. That is all) Pardon my language and thanks again!!**

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	4. The Convenience of Books and Pans

**A/N: Hello dear readers, here we have another chapter. I am so very glad to be back again! Finals are over at last, and I've recovered for the most part. Thank you for bearing with the long gaps between updates; I am truly grateful to you all for your patience.**

**Disclaimer:** **I do not own Sweeney Todd, Mrs. Lovett, or any of the other mentioned Sondheim originals. However, I do own that jerk Skelter, Watson, Swift, and Dottie.**

**Love, Chrys.**

******--******

Mrs. Lovett's heavy eyelids had been cemented shut by the crushing force of exhaustion, and the last act she wished to commit was opening them. She had no desire to escape the comforting layers of velvet darkness and cool shade they provided, simply for the fact that she held complete knowledge of what lay upon the other side. As consciousness began to impose its unwelcome presence upon her, memories from the previous day assaulted her senses in the form of dreadful apparitions. The hollow ring of Mr. Todd's soulless chuckle lingered in her ears. Mrs. Lovett shivered, for she could still feel the cold stream of dirt coating her skin. Imprinted upon the backs of her eyelids, was the sharp outline of Skelter's piercing eyes. Mrs. Lovett struggled to escape each image, attempting to return to the protective fortress provided by sleep. However, as a series of insistent taps landed repeatedly upon her bruised and sun burnt shoulders, bright shards of light began to intrude upon Mrs. Lovett's vision.

"I thought you'd never wake up dearie."

A warm voice softly reverberated in Mrs. Lovett's ears. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the light of morning, which now streamed through the rusty bars of the prison cell.

"Up with you love, quickly now. We can't very well have your breakfast going to waste."

The promise of breakfast caused a once drowsy and murmuring Mrs. Lovett, to snap into an alert and upright position. Her eyelashes fluttered and she brought fingers up to dust the evidence of sleep from the corners of her eyes. Once the blurry haze had vanished completely, Mrs. Lovett was able to focus her vision upon the source of the husky female voice.

Swift sat before her, all of her large teeth barred in a wide smile and hazel eyes twinkling. The tall woman thrust a closed fist in Mrs. Lovett's direction, and slowly pulled back her fingers to reveal a gorgeous sight of salvation to the baker's starving eyes; a bright red apple.

.

Mrs. Lovett's breath caught in her throat as she slowly closed trembling fingers around the succulent piece of nourishment. The weight of the apple settled satisfyingly within the baker's small palm. Two stale pieces of bread crust, retrieved from Swift's dress pocket, made their way into Mrs. Lovett's hand to join the crisp round fruit.

Mrs. Lovett could hardly contain her elation and relief. Her deprived stomach expressed its joy in the form of a deep grumble. The baker's mouth hung agape in shock, and her brown orbs were fixed upon the small pile of food in her palm, as if the scraps had the potential to vanish at any second.

"Was I too late, love? Has the starvation already reached your brain and caused you to go weak in the head? Woman, quit gawking at it and eat, before the food grows legs and runs off!" Swift chuckled vigorously as she slapped Mrs. Lovett lightly on the back of her head.

"Dottie over there found the task of digging right in to be simple enough," Swift declared in light and amused tone, as she nodded in the blonde woman's direction.

Dottie was hunched over in her corner of the cell, looking every bit the starved puppy. The bony woman saw to it that every stray crumb made its way into her mouth, and was currently in the process of meticulously picking the juicy remnants from the core of her apple.

Mrs. Lovett chuckled lightly, and bit into the fruit. The gratifying crunch of sweet, luscious morsels between her teeth brought a wide smile to her face. Cold juice filled the sides of her cheeks and the red skin broke beneath her teeth.

As the tiny baker continued to devour her feast, curiosity began to get the best of her.

"Not tha' I'm complainin' by any means love, but 'ow in the world did ya manage ta' sneak all this food into yer' pockets wit no less than twenty guards surroundin ya?" Mrs. Lovett inquired through a mouthful of bread.

"Ahh, I see. So, not _all_ of London has heard of me," Swift stated with a half smile upon her face.

"Heard a' ya'?" Mrs. Lovett asked curiously between bites.

"Yes me, as in Emily Swift-Hands of the infamous Zeke's Zingare, vagabond and thief extraordinaire." The black haired woman imitated an elaborate bowing motion with her hands. "We created quite the havoc, we did," she declared with unmasked pride.

Mrs. Lovett ceased her steady chewing momentarily to gasp in shock. "You were part of _the_ Zeke's Zingare? Why, I wos under the impression tha' the group wos entirely composed a' men."

Swift's face creased in disgust, and seconds later a spontaneous fit of laughter was emitted from her lips.

"Entirely composed of men? Do you truly believe a group of filthy, stinking, ale guzzling, buffoons would have the brains, organization, or dexterity to rob over two hundred traveling coaches?" Swift asked as she dried the tears of mirth from her cheeks.

Mrs. Lovett deeply contemplated Swift's last statement. "No, I suppose not."

"And right you are, pet. Of course, they provided the necessary brute force, and a whole bucket of laughs around the camp fire." Swift stopped her speech abruptly and her bright eyes glazed over, as if her mind could hardly contain the capacity of such a memory. The woman sighed heavily and continued, "Indeed, those boys were the brothers I never had, but truth be told, at the end of the day, it was my swift hands and Zeke's direction which wrapped up all loose ends."

Mrs. Lovett nodded vigorously, obviously enthralled by Swift's story.

Swift continued, "We hit over two hundred traveling coaches and countless unsuspecting households. Zeke reveled in each of his victories. Every piece of colorful jewelry and bits of gold seemed to validate his cause. Although after each heist, when he was finished counting and weighing his bounty, he would distribute the lot to the men. Zeke had little need for riches; it was the thrill of defying authority which wet his palate."

"And 'ow bout you love, wot' wos your inspiration?" Mrs. Lovett inquired after swallowing the last precious morsels of the stolen food.

Swift smiled as she lifted her hands to the neckline of her dress. "Before Zeke found me, and introduced me to the rest of the men, I was a lonely orphan living with a very rich, old widow. Well, it was that woman, who gave me the greatest gift I have yet to receive; she taught a poor, scrawny brat how to read."

Swift's hands loosened the neckline of her dress as she continued the explanation. "The men lived for the excitement of riches, and I lived for the satisfaction that only literature could provide. On each excursion, they filled their sacks with fine silverware and rare silks, and I filled mine with books. Sleep was only truly peaceful, after I had digested a few chapters from a good book. The words from each page left me more fulfilled than any amount of sustenance ever could. I can attribute my knowledge of treating wounds, such as those upon your back, to thousands of stolen books. These same books were also my source of information on the sand pits."

Mrs. Lovett threw Swift a quizzical glance. "Sand pits, dear?"

Swift's hands were hovering above the dress laces at her abdomen. She stopped to meet Mrs. Lovett's gaze and provided both an answer and a command. "The sand pits, are the new and lovely piece of scenery we are to be introduced to today. I overheard the guards sharing a good laugh about it earlier this morning." She paused momentarily to nudge Dottie, who had remained motionless in her corner throughout the entire conversation. Swift motioned for the two ladies to crouch in closer. Once the group was completely huddled together, she continued in a hushed tone, "Listen, I'll explain everything in its entirety once we hit the trail. You must listen to me closely darlings, and heed every warning. For failure to do so may result in an unpleasant encounter with Skelter's bloody whip."

Swift drew her face away from the two women. She slowly studied the expressions of her two companions, only to find fear and confusion etched deeply into their features. Dottie's lower lip trembled uncontrollably, and Mrs. Lovett's eyes had widened increasingly at Swift's words of caution.

After allowing the women's horrified facial expressions to be on display for a few moments longer, Swift erupted into hearty laughter and chided her cohorts. "Lighten up ladies, I'm simply providing you two with a bit of helpful advice is all. Now to hell with propriety, and off with these silly dresses. If we are to avoid the heat successfully, I suggest we all give Nellie's idea a little try."

--

The troop of prisoners from cell 861 trudged dejectedly down the dust lined path. Every despair ridden face was identical; each adorned with sweat coated brows, bloodshot eyes, and chapped lips. The line of prisoners was a mass of slumped shoulders, and heavy sighs.

_Would it 'ave kilt' the sadistic bastards to 'ave built the cells closer to the labor site? Tha' would 'ave been the very least they could 'ave done. _

Mrs. Lovett thought indignantly as she stumbled over a rock that had been hidden beneath a thin layer of brown dirt.

The woman could feel the exhausted contractions of her heart reverberating in her chest cavity. Her lungs struggled to expand to full capacity under the strain of labored breaths. At this point, Mrs. Lovett was convinced that the bloody sun was a contraption spawned by the devil himself.

_Well if I die from sheer exhaustion, at least it will serve ta shorten me sentence._

Mrs. Lovett tightened the purple scrap of silk, which had been torn from her dress on the previous day, around her head in order to absorb the sweat droplets more effectively. As the trail narrowed and the palm trees decreased in their numbers, the baker took a long glance at her surroundings. She noted with distress, that the group was short five women. Mrs. Lovett knew instantly, that the missing ladies were the other five who had been issued the starvation penalty on the previous day. The tiny baker shuddered with the knowledge of the two possible fates these women were currently facing. Then there was the question which she dare not contend with; which was the more acceptable option? To allow oneself to lay within the quiet peace of a shallow grave, or to become tangled within the sheets of a guard's bed?

When the palm trees had nearly thinned out completely, and a pungent stench had invaded each pair of nostrils, Watson's stout form and Skelter's slender built could be seen marching up the trail to in order to meet with their captive audience. Following closely behind the menacing duo, were seven other musket-toting guards, and the elderly man with the barrel of water situated atop his bony back. The sight of the warden and his second in command caused half of the prisoners to tremble in extreme apprehension, and the bolder half to stiffen into defense mode.

Watson and two fellow guards, each equipped with large brown sacks in hand, began to weave their way through the hushed crowd. Each prisoner received a medium sized pan composed of rusted metal. The mass of steel rested heavily within each prisoner's blistered hand, and was characterized by a series of tiny holes at the bottom.

Skelter watched the distribution of each instrument with keen and unblinking eyes.

"The sifting pans, which are currently within in your possession, are to be held in the same regard as a dear companion. It is a privilege to be awarded the rights of usage. These lovely tools are reliable, beneficial, and rare." Skelter ceased the delivery of his statement in order to search the dirt stained faces of the prisoners. Sensing the crowd's heightened apprehension, the warden continued with satisfaction, "The defining characteristic of these beauties is their rarity. I shall only allow one sifting pan to each individual prisoner. Therefore, it would be in your best interest, to maintain a tight grip upon them. For if any of you miserable creatures is foolish enough to lose a pan, I guarantee that in the future, you shall perform this task with your bare hands."

**--******

Skelter's pale face and bony features contorted in amusement as he eyed his unwilling flock. The formidable warden was once again clad from head to toe in the familiar black garments. His thin lips formed a smirk, and then parted in order to address the prisoners with the day's instructions.

"I am in quite the generous mood today my friends, and therefore your labor load is to be light. Just beyond this coppice, lies a shallow marsh. You should be pleased to know, that this island proudly participates in the trade. Part of that trade involves shell particles and certain varieties of rock. Both resources can be found at the bottom of said marsh, and seeing as the trade is to be commenced in a matter of months, it is your honorable duty to ensure that we are fully stocked. Take pride in your work children, and in that respect, you may regard yourselves as prosperous businessmen and women." Skelter scoffed as he delivered his words of mockery. The warden's speech continued, "Twenty wooden bins have been set upon the banks of the swamp. Succeed in filling each of them with the desired materials, and you have nothing to fear. Fail and I will not hesitate to provide your worthless flesh with irreparable scars."

Skelter's gaze burned through the crowd of bowed heads until his eyes landed upon a flurry of auburn curls. The woman instantly established eye contact. Skelter smirked in wicked delight as his gaze delved into the depths of those brown orbs.

_Does the bitch dare to challenge me once more?_

Maintaining eye contact with Mrs. Lovett, he brought a hand up into the air and snapped his fingers. "Proceed, 861."

--

_Markers have been planted, but they are tiny little things, a single wooden post with a number etched upon it. The ground will be flat, and hold the appearance of fresh mud. Did you listen closely love? I shall be unable to repeat this once we've reached our destination. You must always keep your eyes open, for the guards will issue no warnings. I know this to be a fact, for I overheard them through our trusty little window this very morning. No information escapes these old ears, and no secret goes unheard for those who know the proper ways in which to listen_.

Swift's words danced a quick jig upon Mrs. Lovett's heated brow. The baker had every intention of heeding her cohort's warning. She had taken Swift's words of wisdom to heart, and was unable to express the waves of immeasurable relief and gratitude she was experiencing at the possession of her new knowledge. However, Mrs. Lovett's true intentions were to remain unknown to both Swift and Dottie for the time being. For although Mrs. Lovett currently avoided the dark brown patch of earth which rose from the far edge of the swamp, the crafty baker knew that the secret which lay beneath the calm surface would ultimately work to her advantage by the end of the long and tortuous day.

Beyond Mrs. Lovett and the patch of bubbling brown mud, lay the expanse of the marsh itself. The marsh bank was lined with layers of long yellow grass and tree stumps. Swarms of flies hovered above the lukewarm water, and often made themselves comfortable atop the heads of the unfortunate prisoners. Guard stroked their muskets as they paced the shore, repeatedly circling the prisoners. As promised by Skelter, twenty wooden bins had been set upon the bank. Each bin sat ten feet long, and six feet wide. The prisoners often slipped in the mud, or collided with one another in desperate attempts to set the contents of their sifting pans within the massive bins.

Mrs. Lovett was unable to decide which pained her more, the stench which accompanied the waters of the marsh, or the fact that she had festered in the same, miserable crouched position for the last thirteen hours. Brown water, infested by thick bits of green algae, encircled Mrs. Lovett's waist and stained her white undergarments. As the hours of the day passed, Mrs. Lovett had come to the conclusion that the smell of the marsh could be most accurately compared to dead animals and mold. Both of which, she was sure to have stepped in at some point.

Due to the constant bending associated with the task, the front of the baker's body was thoroughly soaked. Labored breaths entered and exited Mrs. Lovett's lips as she struggled to fill her sifting pan with tiny rocks. Mrs. Lovett shifted her waist, and straightened her body to a standing position. The sudden transition to an upright stance from a constantly hunched position, sent sharp pangs of pain from Mrs. Lovett's shoulder blades to her aching sacrum. Mrs. Lovett ran her hands down the length of her back, the massaging action causing her spine to curve into an arch .Finally having an opportunity to lift her head to the azure sky, she was suddenly aware that surrounding atmosphere had altered significantly.

The sun's position had dipped over the course of the day. The shadows cast by the guards had darkened to a deeper shade of black and increased in their length. This effect served to compliment the merciless nature of each musket brandishing man, and caused the prisoners to grow increasingly aware of their fearsome presence. There was no denying, that the numerous guards posed a constant threat to her welfare. Even more daunting, was the warden's tall shadow, which had cast itself over the baker's petite form.

Mrs. Lovett squirmed beneath the scorch of the warden's eyes. Skelter's gaze had failed to stray from her for more than a few seconds since the task had initiated. The warden maintained eye contact with Mrs. Lovett, as he religiously stalked the piece of shore nearest to her location. Skelter appeared to be taking tremendous delight in toying heartlessly with the tiny baker's nerves. The manner in which Mrs. Lovett's body tensed each time his fingers clutched the leather handle of his whip, served to twist the warden's thin lips into a crooked smile.

However, the musket hauling men and the sadistic intentions of the warden were of little concern to Mrs. Lovett at that moment. The unfortunate woman was all too aware of the fact that a threat capable of creating greater atrocities, lurked within the dark corners of the wetland.

Mrs. Lovett had identified the menace instantly. At the sound of Watson's first whistle, an ominous sight had been caught briefly at the tiny corner of the baker's eye, causing her breath to form a solid cluster of dread within her throat. Sweeney Todd's colorless orbs flashed with predatory knowledge, and explored every contour of her face in a display of dominance and intimidation. The barber seemed eager to locate even the slightest indicators of fear. A shudder tore through her spine under his slow evaluation. Yet to Mrs. Lovett's distress, the nature of Todd's unforgiving glare was the least of her dilemmas.

As the hours of the day had progressed, Mrs. Lovett grew painfully aware of the fact that the barber was taking the liberty of slowly repositioning himself. Sweeney Todd's initial labor station had been located at the opposite side of the marsh, harmlessly settled between a flock of male prisoners. Now, as the sun's intensity subsided, and prisoners increased their last efforts in order to avoid the inevitable lashing, Todd had commenced the gradual attack on his chosen victim. Over the last thirteen hours Mrs. Lovett had often lifted her eyes to observe Sweeney Todd's silent advances, until he stood within a mere twelve feet of her.

Mrs. Lovett's fists clenched until the knuckles paled, despite the dried blood coating her blisters. Her troubled thoughts drifted to the previous day.

It had been yesterday, from the bottom of a cold abyss that Mrs. Lovett had grown familiar with the sly manner in which this serpent chose to strike. The man had waited patiently from afar, until he was certain that her guard had fallen and her senses had dulled. It was at that point, that Sweeney Todd had proceeded to bury her alive.

The woman's temper hitched to a boil. Rage coursed through her veins and spilled into her throbbing temples.

_Not this time, Mr. Todd. Never wage the war, if you cannot fight the battle…_

Mrs. Lovett glanced over to the small wooden peg which marked her potential victory. The marker sat inconspicuously beneath small yellow leaves. Broken twigs and gray pebbles covered the muddy expanse.

_And always obtain the necessary resources for a proper attack. _

Everything appeared to be in place, with the exception of a single hindrance. Mrs. Lovett glanced to the bank.

_Bloody 'ell_

Skelter maintained his post at the shore, eyes plastered to her face. Mrs. Lovett had the sickening sense that the blasted warden regarded her as some form of personal entertainment, a specimen intended for dissection. With his unwavering eyes scrutinizing her every move, all goals were far out of reach.

And then, at that very moment, heaven must have decided that her life was worthy of temporary salvation.

The blow of whistles sounded from the opposite edge of the marsh. Boots pounded upon the earth, coupling with the cocking of muskets. Whips were drawn and threats were issued, as the guards rushed to the aid of the unfortunate water carrier. The elderly man was in the process of being kicked in the ribs, as three desperate and dehydrated male prisoners attempted to steal the bucket of water from his back.

Skelter shot one last glance in Mrs. Lovett's direction. The warden's eyes were ablaze and his expression unreadable, as he reluctantly sprinted toward the source of the havoc.

--

Todd's lean form stood at the bank of the marsh, eyes fastened to the baker. At the sight of the leering beast, Mrs. Lovett began to assure all preparations had been properly made. Mentally, she estimated distances, and ran her hands from her calves to her bruised feet in order to determine the extent of physical damage. Most importantly, she brought her attention to the sole attribute she contained that would ensure the preservation of her life upon this earth. It was an ability which Mrs. Lovett possessed, and surely an art which she had perfected; the act of arousing of Sweeney Todd's anger.

With everything finally in the desired position, Mrs. Lovett immediately locked eyes with her opponent. Feeling the anxiety bubbling deeply within her chest and throat, she began to hesitantly close the distance that separated them. Murky water lapped at Mrs. Lovett's waist she waded her way toward the rigid figure of Sweeney Todd. Sizing up her enemy, the woman cursed herself for the violent flutter of her heart. Goose bumps decorated the baker's pale skin and her pulse hitched in sudden acceleration. Mrs. Lovett recognized the symptoms to be a direct result of vivid fear, heated anger, and involuntary affection. It had been months since she'd had the opportunity to quietly observe Todd. The last time she had done so, was while cleaning a last bit of blood from the floor of the barber's parlor back in London.

Todd was clad in black trousers which were covered in a layer of dust particles and water. A once white cotton shirt was had been worn to a grayish hue, and she noticed that the first buttons were missing. Todd had the long sleeves rolled to his elbows, and his ebony hair was damp and clung to his head and neck.

At her approach, Todd's dark eyes blazed threateningly. The baker noted the change in color within Todd's unholy orbs. The scorch of the sun paled in comparison to the searing rage located within the barber's gaze.

The bakers' hands trembled as she cleared her throat and spoke, "Afternoon, Mr. Todd."

Todd lips remained locked shut, and yet he maintained eye contact. The man's jaw clenched tightly and his sharp cheekbones jutted from the sides of his pale face.

In the past, that same menacing twist upon Todd's rigid features would have sent Mrs. Lovett retreating down rickety wooden steps and into the sanctuary of her pie shop.

However the past had dissipated and the woman had been robbed of all possible retreat methods. She gathered her wits and forced her syllables to be delivered with stern confidence. "Mr. T, I believe ya' are standing within the women's section. Shouldn't ya' be on the other side with the rest a' the men?"

Sweeney Todd smirked wickedly and swept a pale hand across the surface of the algae spotted water. The man's head cocked slowly to one side as the beast eyed his prey.

Todd's words were laced with sarcasm and unconcealed spite, "I find the temperature to be more pleasing on this side, Mrs. Lovett."

The man's blatant mockery placed a small wrinkle upon the woman's smooth attempt at composure. Mrs. Lovett retorted, her voice quavering slightly and rising in pitch, "I am quite a lot 'a things Mr. T, but daft sure as hell isn't one of 'em. After yer antics yesterday, I wouldn't be wrong ta' suspect that yer sole purpose for venturing ta this side, is ta' inflict the highest forms of harm and injury upon me."

Mrs. Lovett took a slow step forward. She continued with growing anticipation, sensing her goal to be within reach. All she required now were the correct words. "Furthermore, I deserve none a' the unjust punishments, you've subjected me ta'".

The barber's anger began a rampant, molten flow through his veins. Todd's teeth gnashed and his fists clenched, causing his fingernails to sink deeply into his palms.

"Any amount of misfortune which fell upon your head yesterday was well earned on your behlaf, pet," Todd growled as his voice lowered into a baritone threat, "and any that will befall you in the very near future is warranted. Although, if proper justice had been tempered initially, your body would be little more than a useless pile of ashes."

The jagged edge of Todd's words effectively reopened the layers which had served to protect old wounds. Struggling to stifle the reawakening of raw heartache, Mrs. Lovett channeled all of her focus to the task at hand.

"Such harsh words Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett uttered softly, taking a few steps forward.

Glancing to her sides, the woman sighed quietly with utter relief as she noted the short distance to the marsh bank, and the prize which sat upon it; Sweeney Todd's sifting pan.

Continuing her journey toward her intended conquest, Mrs. Lovett reduced the extensive gap between them to a slim crack of empty space. A sly smile worked its way across Mrs. Lovett's dry lips, and she continued to address Sweeney Todd with heightened audacity.

"I realize that ya don't exactly 'old me in the highest regard Mr. T. However, I do believe, tha' it would be in our best interests ta' learn 'ow ta' get along. We could put all this nonsense behind us, we could. Wot's the harm in enjoyin' tha' lovely weather, or baskin' in the warmth a' the sand? Our home is now by the sea after all, as ya said when we first arrived, is it not?"

With that, Mrs. Lovett boldly closed the sliver of space with a few last steps, until the pair stood pressed against one another. Mrs. Lovett could feel the rigid plane of Sweeney Todd's chest collide gently against her soft flesh. She was acutely aware of the slide of her dampened abdomen grazing his. The barber's breaths landed softly upon the heated skin of her cheek. Mrs. Lovett's heart battled against the strict confinement of her rib cage and she silently prayed Todd couldn't feel the fierce reverberation. Never before had the baker been within such close proximity to the cold barber, and to her utter surprise Todd didn't reject her presence. The baker inhaled deeply as she felt the overwhelming desire to close her eyes and revel in the foreign contact of Todd's body against her.

But now was certainly not the time to lose sight of one's purpose.

_Get yer head on straight Nellie, the man means to kill you at the first opportunity he receives…get on with it. Drive the stake in, ignite the fire, and move._

Mrs. Lovett braced herself for the inevitable repercussions of her next actions. The woman knew that her outlandish plan, sprung from the roots of desperation, would only be successful if she could rouse Todd's anger to the highest point of irrationality.

The baker brought her face within inches of Todd's smirking lips. Her heart tightened in fear and anticipation, as she proceeded to provocatively run a slim finger along Todd's firm jaw line.

"Besides love, when are ya'goin' ta' put all that Lucy business behind ya? Ya might as well do us both a service, an' wipe all details concerning tha' silly woman from yer memory. For if I remember correctly, the sole detail yer capable of recallin' about the ridiculous nit, wos her bloody yellow hair."

Tremors tore through Sweeney Todd's form at the mention of Lucy's name. An inhuman growl tore from the seething barber's lips, as he shoved Mrs. Lovett against the edge of the bank. The baker allowed herself to be propelled into the soggy dirt of the marsh's edge.

_Brace yerself, he's ta be advancin' at any second._

The baker gripped the shore, and made a hasty attempt to steady her breathing. Digging sore fingers into the malleable earth, Mrs. Lovett rapidly pulled her weight from the water. Due to her soaking garments, the task proved to be more challenging than she had originally predicted. Thankfully, the force with which Todd shoved her body had granted her at least four feet of space.

Once settling unsteady legs upon solid ground Mrs. Lovett swooped downward, and in a one single motion, she snatched Sweeney Todd's sifting pan up from its resting place.

With that, the woman pivoted her body in the direction of the muddy expanse, and never looked back.

Mrs. Lovett was a woman of limited wind, and had never been much of a runner. However today, while being chased along the rim of a soggy marsh bank by an enraged Sweeney Todd, she ran as if the soles of her feet had combusted into flames. The harsh force of Mrs. Lovett's feet wreaking their havoc upon the dusty earth sent vibrations throughout her entire body. Her bones rattled within her frame, and her heart's erratic rhythm echoed in her ears. It was at that point, when the burn in her lungs and throat had become unbearable, and the sting of sweat had begun to obstruct her vision, that the beautiful expanse of wet mud came into view. Salvation was a mere six feet in front of her.

And Sweeney Todd was a single foot behind her.

The hairs upon Mrs. Lovett's neck stood on end as the woman felt Todd's ragged breaths graze her skin. A shrill scream of terror tore from her lips as her feet were swiftly kicked out from beneath her. Mrs. Lovett landed belly down upon a small mound of sand with a harsh thud. The force of the fall expelled the wind directly out of Mrs. Lovett's lungs. In an instant, Todd's body was positioned atop of hers, his weight compressing her small form into the dirt. His hands encircled her throat in a viselike grip.

" Lucy's name shall never again fall from your cursed lips. If you believed I would allow such disgrace to fall upon her precious name, you are gravely mistaken!" Todd growled, crushing her windpipe beneath his hands .

Mrs. Lovett's blood seeped from beneath the pressure of Sweeney Todd's fingernails. The women's air supply had been vastly depleted, both by the sprint and by Todd's merciless hands. Yet the woman had never been one to welcome defeat without a decent fight.

The baker squirmed beneath the formidable figure of Todd. Mrs. Lovett twisted her body, using her shoulder blades as a source of grip and leverage. The woman opened her mouth to gasp for air, and found that her voice hadn't completely failed her.

"Precious name, Mr. Todd? I assure you, I am not the one responsible for disgracing that woman's blasted name. She effortlessly completed that task of 'er own accord. A stark ravin' mad whore wos wot became 'a Mrs. Lucy Barker. Ya' left 'er with not a penny to 'er name, an' when the poison failed ta' do it's job, an' tha' easy way out wos no longer an option, she took to liftin 'er skirts." Mrs. Lovett forced her choked syllables out as she inched her way to closer to the shore.

Sweeney Todd momentarily freed a hand from Mrs. Lovett's throat to wrap his fingers within her curls. The barber roughly lifted the baker's head, and brought it down to make harsh contact with ground as he continued, "Lies, filthy, despicable lies! The very same lies which ended her precious life, and shall put a halt to your worthless one!"

Sweeney Todd held one hand at Mrs. Lovett's throat, and his fingers remained tangled within her curls. The man growled furiously as malice dripped from his words, "Now give me back that pan, you miserable bitch." Todd brought Mrs. Lovett's head crashing down upon the earth once more.

Mrs. Lovett's head and vision reeled from the impact, but the woman was able to recognize an opportunity when she saw one. Having some mobility granted by the shift of Todd's arm, she lifted the hand which held the sifting pan. With all remaining strength, Mrs. Lovett brought the mass of metal down upon Todd's head.The metal object rang and vibrated from the impact. Todd emitted a roar of pain and fury as he abruptly loosened his grip from around Mrs. Lovett's neck.

Grasping the opportunity, the woman quickly flipped over and hastily crawled the last few feet to the edge of the bank. She fully knew that an enraged Todd had leapt to his feet and followed closely behind her.

"I grow weary of your foolish tactics Mrs. Lovett, now hand over the pan and I may consider making your demise a quick affair," growled Todd as he roughly ground a foot into Mrs. Lovett's chest from his standing position.

Sharp pain, due to the pressure of Sweeney Todd's foot, shot through Mrs. Lovett's chest and caused her to wince. Gathering what meager amount of physical strength she still possessed, Mrs. Lovett extended an arm over the edge of the bank. The baker loosened her grip on the instrument and allowed the pan to descend into the pool of mud.

Sweeney Todd's lips curled into a sinister grin upon witnessing Mrs. Lovett's act, and removed his foot from her beaten body.

"Clever choice," Todd stated coldly. "I trust you won't be going roaming far, pet."

_Why, a' course not, Mr. T. I couldn't possibly miss this._

The barber swung his long legs over the edge of the bank, and set his feet upon the damp earth. Sweeney spotted the pan, and with a smug expression playing over his features, the barber made hasty strides towards where it lay.

It took mere seconds for the once stable brown earth to completely cave in around Todd's ankles. Confusion swept over Sweeney Todd as his eyes flew to the shore. Mrs. Lovett stood upon the bank, dusting the dirt particles from her garments with a satisfied smile shaping her lips. Stunned, but not rendered entirely immobile, Sweeney Todd attempted to lift a foot from the constricting froth of the murky bog. The barber's effort's proved to be fruitless. Todd began to ferociously strain his muscles against the intense suction of the wet quicksand, only to be pulled downward. His frantic struggling proved to work against him, and the barber had sunk to the level of his knees within the foaming mass of earth and twigs.

From his position embedded within the dirt, Todd sent his gaze over Mrs. Lovett's form. The woman's stance radiated her triumph; a confident hand rested upon her hips and her chin was tilted at an upward angle. At the sight of the petite baker, two emotions rose to form a raging tempest deep within Todd. The first emotion was fury, running pure and swift throughout Todd's murderous veins. Second was the shock of being beaten by this woman, who had once established her position as one of weak subservience.

"Mrs. Lovett, you're a bloody wonder," Todd muttered. Shock, simple and unadulterated stained Todd's features as he continued to become submerged within the earthy prison.

Glaring down at the barber from her throne of dirt, the victor beamed gleefully, for she had finally achieved the upper hand.

Mrs. Lovett smirked. "Enjoy yer bath, Mr. T."

--

**A/N**: **Well summer is here, and I just have a couple of things to say…. **

**1.) Yay !! Finals are over, screw you school!!**

**2.) I have nothing left to study for (HALLELUJAH!) and therefore I have no more excuses for the lapse in my updates**.

**As for this chapter:**

**1. Yikes, quicksand!**

**2.. Oh man, this was hard to write. Final exams and my professors with all their medical terms have all but obliterated a large number of my brain cells. Therefore, if this piece seems weakly written, please understand that I am still in exam recovery. Future chapters will be better, I promise.**

**3. I was forced to cut the original piece in half. If I hadn't done so, the chapter would have well exceeded 12,000 words. I would never dream of exhausting my readers in such a way. So, I guess this is kind of a filler chapter (again, I'm sorry). **

**4. I hope nobody minds that I spent some time introducing some character details about Swift.**

**5. I realize that this was written mainly from Mrs. Lovett's perspective, but the next chapter will focus more on Sweeney Todd's point of view. After what he did to her in my last chapter, she really needed a break.**

**6. Skelter's a creepy one, isn't he? (evil laughter)**

**7. Next chapter should be out soon, seeing as it's already written, it just requires editing. Hang in there all, Sweenett is coming.**

**8. Please continue to read and review, as I truly value your feedback. As mentioned previously, ****respectful**** constructive criticism is welcomed…but praise and encouragement is warmly welcomed)**

**Thank you readers, you are beyond wonderful. All of your patience is greatly appreciated. For my last update, I received more than thirty reviews**. **jumps for joy** **and hugs you all**. **Therefore,** **special thank are due to the following:**

Just a Little Crazy(thanks love, for all the support), BritishDracoLuvr, EclipseValkyrie, Pamena, Marzi, AngelofDarkness1605, Miss Poisonous, Lizzienuss88, ABloodyWonder, MrsMargeryLovett, clairsecor, hoteltokio, ShadowedElegance, skykissedwindknight, BabyBluewinx, sarahisaninja, silver and rubies, Silverbone, LivelyLenore, angelkake, ByTheBeautifulSea, friska-freak, jocelyn52586, Rebellious Faerie, KellySunshine101, and Scarlet Masquerade.

** To jess (who wasn't signed in, so I couldn't send a message): Thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed it!!**

**Thank you also to all who added this as a favorite/story alert!**

**Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter!, and that everyone is enjoying their summer!**


	5. Mr Todd, You're a Muddy Wonder

_**Hello and welcome) So happy to see you all once again, thanks for stopping in. Enjoy, and R&R please! **_

Sweeney Todd supposed the pungent stench rising from the bubbling bog could have been the worst factor in his current predicament. That was of course, if he hadn't been sinking fast into its depths. The rancid, liquid earth now encircled Todd's waist, causing the tiny pebbles embedded within it to scrape against his skin. Instinctively, the demon barber reacted using the strategy with which he was most familiar; brute force. Todd's fists beat into the mud and his calf muscles strained against the pressure of the wet dirt. Yet all of Todd's efforts proved to be fruitless, for the fierce struggling only served to encourage the violent suction. A furious growl tore from the barber's lips, as his unwilling limbs slowly disappeared beneath the bubbling brown froth. It was an undeniable fact that the barber had lost grip of the upper hand, and he could only attribute this fact to a grinning Mrs. Lovett. The woman observed the entire spectacle from her comfortable post upon the bank.

_That bloody insufferable woman. She will pay dearly for her decisions. Her flapping, impertinent tongue shall be ripped out at the root for its blatant desecration of Lucy's name. _

Todd ceased to struggle as a sense of failure leaked through his limbs, causing each to grow heavy and fall limp.

_You did absolutely nothing to cease those insolent words. Your incompetence permitted every word to fall so effortlessly from her lips. How could you allow such a thing to occur?_

Todd furiously scoured all corners of his mind for answers, yet found that he could hardly excuse any of his foolish actions. Enraged, Todd gnashed his teeth as he recounted how blind he had been to the devious trap set by Mrs. Lovett. The woman had been thoroughly successful in the execution of her plan. She dangled his own anger before him as fresh bait, and he had eagerly jumped into her snare. The barber could not comprehend how his petite landlady, with her perpetual obedience and constant compliance, had achieved such a grievous victory over him.

Todd's features grew livid with disbelief and rage as his gaze swept over the sight displayed before him. Mrs. Lovett's hands were planted firmly upon her hips, shoulders thrown back and chin to the sky. Her ridiculous mass of dampened curls fell to her shoulders, the loose auburn curtain framing her face. A wide smile decorated her lips, accentuated by the blinding gleam of the sun. The fact that the woman was pleased with herself was plain as day.

Sweeney Todd found the sight to be completely maddening. The barber would savor the immense pleasure in permanently ceasing the woman's laughter and mockery. Todd wagered the bones of her neck would snap slowly and deliciously beneath his fingertips.

Yet, battling its way through Todd's darkened haze of anger, rose an equally intense emotion; confusion. The man was immersed in a complete state of bafflement, and it all centered on the baker's appearance. Although Todd hadn't taken sufficient time to observe his boisterous nuisance of an accomplice back in London, the barber knew enough to sense a difference in Mrs. Lovett. This slight variation, which Todd was vastly unfamiliar with, was reflected vibrantly within the baker's gaze. Mrs. Lovett's huge brown eyes flashed with unmasked arrogance, and her gaze refused to shrink away beneath Todd's ruthless scrutiny. All of the characteristics currently present in Mrs. Lovett were foreign to the barber, yet there was a specific dissimilarity which Todd was unable to identify.

"You appear to be in quite the predicament mate." A soft chuckle broke the seething barber's thought process.

Standing upon the bank beside Mrs. Lovett, stood a slim man with shoulder length brown hair. The man was clad in a torn pair of dust coated brown trousers. He was shirtless, thus revealing patches of reddened, sun burnt flesh. The fellow was middle-aged and of medium height. Despite the man's number of years, his features reflected the mischievous nature of a seven year old boy. His thin lips curled into a genuine smile and green eyes twinkled with hints of amusement and sympathy as he sized up Todd, who was currently submerged within the wet earth to his upper waist.

Despite the nature of his present condition, Todd experienced a stab of resentment at the man's prying nature. "I am in no need of spectators, sir, and it would certainly be in your best interest, to remove yourself from my sight at once," Todd threatened, his dark gaze shifting from Mrs. Lovett to the chuckling gentleman.

The grinning man upon the shore threw back his head in deep laughter, as if Todd had just presented him with a clever and insightful piece of humor. He retorted, "I made the delightful journey to this side of the marsh not to witness a show. I merely wish to offer you a hand of aide and a mind of experience."

"_You_ wish to help me sir?" Todd scoffed with a smirk. The cantankerous barber wasted no time in spitting his skepticism directly at the man. "Who in the bloody hell are you? How am I to believe that you possess the knowledge to remedy the situation?"

The gentleman's laughter died down and was replaced by a crooked smile.

He positioned himself at the edge of the bank to address Todd. "First and foremost sir, at this point who I am is trivial knowledge. For the truth of the matter is you are in no such position to refuse any form of assistance from anyone, whether it be that hag Queen Victoria, a toothless pauper, or myself. However, if you insist on knowing me on a personal basis, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Cassius Kipling, former Naval Captain of The Arcadia, and your cellmate with whom you have so rudely refused to converse with. Furthermore sir, I have led more successful excursions through multiple wetlands, than years you have walked upon this earth." Cassius cocked an eyebrow as the brown bog enveloped yet another inch of Todd's lower abdomen. "And unless you listen very closely to my every word, you shall never set foot upon solid ground again."

As the bog continued to bubble and the strength began to seep from Todd's aching muscles, the barber finally accepted defeat and acknowledged the fact that his options were vastly limited. "What do you suggest I do?"

Cassius ran his hand along his jaw line as he paced the perimeter surrounding the quicksand. Finally locating a desirable position, the former captain stopped and issued his order. "Remove your shirt."

Todd tossed Cassius a look of disbelief and fury. The line of his jaw stiffened and his sharp cheekbones grew prominent. Todd's eyes reflected ebony flames as he maintained silence, an obvious rejection of Cassius's suggestion.

Cassius ran a hand through his brown locks and sighed loudly, an obvious indicator of the man's draining patience. "No need for modesty now. Trust me friend, you haven't got much time. Remove you shirt, and grab hold of one sleeve. You must then toss the free end over to me and cease all your struggles. At that point I shall slowly, but surely drag you to shore. This is the only way to ensure your freedom, and therefore I suggest that you abandon the ridiculous red-cheeked virgin performance, and remove your shirt immediately."

Todd narrowed his dark eyes in the captain's direction. "I agree to follow any orders you see fit to send my way. However, by no means, shall I remove my shirt."

Bewildered by Todd's defiance, a wide-eyed Cassius gawked at the stubborn barber. The captain turned sharply on a heel, and ran a few feet in the opposite direction of the bank, briefly disappearing from Todd's sight.

Minutes later, a red-faced Cassius returned to the bank clutching a thick branch of moderate length. "Now, seeing as you have so stupidly rejected my previous solution, you must follow my every order. This branch is neither as long, nor as flexible as your shirt would have been. Therefore I require as much assistance on your part as possible, though I must say that your ability to follow simple instructions match those of an infant girl. Slowly lie on your back, and allow your feet to float to the surface. After a while, your entire body should rest upon the surface. Gradually, you will gain the ability to float, and once you reach the shoreline I shall be able to pry you free from your foul-smelling confinement. "

Todd examined Cassius' face once more, and pondered the man's words. The fellow appeared to be genuine in his intentions, if not slightly pompous in his mannerisms. Todd considered the possibility of heeding the captain's commands. All at once, the notion occurred to Todd that he held a larger number of options than he had originally anticipated.

Todd's eyes flew downward to observe the swirling pool of rancid mud and soft algae at his waist. At that point, Todd knew he would be forced to make a decision. It could all be so painfully simple, for placed before him was the option of sinking. A quick descent to the murky depths of the bog, where he could welcome death in a world of complete darkness and blessed silence. Perhaps then, before he faced the ultimate judgment for his earthly transgressions, would he be able to feel the ghostly caress of Lucy's hand upon his brow. Or would the clear ring of Mrs. Lovett's triumphant laughter be the last sound bidding Todd farewell from this world?

At that thought, Todd felt the heavy hand of promised vengeance settle upon his shoulder. It was that same familiar force which had consistently fed the lungs of the blood thirsty barber, keeping him upon this wretched earth for as long as he could remember. Todd refused to allow the baker a swift and effortless escape from her fate, and ultimately it was the sight of Mrs. Lovett's lips, molded into a smug grin, which prompted him to follow the captain's instructions. With a smirk playing across his pale features, Todd lay his back flat upon the top layer of the mud.

Todd's ebony locks had become entirely caked with thick layers of mud when his dirt smothered feet eventually floated to the surface. After an eternity had passed, Todd was able to inch his body within close enough proximity of Cassius's branch, and finally the mud coated barber stood upon solid ground next to the grinning sea captain. Both men ventured a few steps onto the shore before they were met by a peculiar sight.

Mrs. Lovett had positioned herself comfortably atop a tree stump, the perfect spot to obtain a clear view of Todd's ordeal. Upon capturing the two men within her line of vision, the auburn haired woman giggled uncontrollably at Todd's soiled appearance.

Cassius tossed the branch to the side and eyed his cellmate. "I assume that this woman is the party responsible for your current state. May I ask what you did to upset the lady so? It isn't common for a proper English madam to lead a man feet first into a bog."

Todd's eyes remained locked upon Mrs. Lovett as he spoke, "That, sir, is no proper English madam. I simply ensured that the deceitful bitch be made aware of the repercussions associated with her insolent actions.

Dumbfounded, Cassius eyed the barber, his mouth hanging agape in speechless shock at Todd's choice of words. "Ah, I see. I'd wager that popularity isn't one of your stronger qualities."

"Enough!" The rough command split the humid air. Skelter stood before the three prisoners, his lean figure clad entirely in black. He was a formidable sight to behold, standing a daunting six feet in height. The warden had observed the entire spectacle from the opposite side of the marsh while attempting to salvage the water carrier from his attackers. Once the situation was placed under control, and the bodies of the three renegade prisoners were decorated by bullet wounds, Skelter and four guards had sprinted in the direction of Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett.

The warden shoved a fist into Cassius' abdomen, causing the startled captain to stumble backward. Once the brown haired man was taken aside by a guard, Skelter dug his fingers into Todd's bicep and pulled the silent barber in Mrs. Lovett's direction. At the sight of the warden and Todd, Mrs. Lovett arose from her seated position, every muscle in her body tensing. Skelter positioned Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett before him. Tangling a large fist within the baker's thick curls, the warden roughly drew Mrs. Lovett's head back, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"It is beyond my comprehension, as to why you insist on hindering the progress of your fellow cellmates with your persistent insubordination. Does this rebellious bitch have a name?" The warden's topaz eyes blazed as they explored Mrs. Lovett's face.

Mrs. Lovett swallowed hard and winced at the harsh tugging upon the roots of her hair. Despite her unfortunate position, the petite baker boldly raised her eyes to meet those of her captor. Her words were presented with as much feigned confidence as she could summon. "My name is Mrs. Eleanor Lovett sir, an' I was simply affordin' Mr. Todd the same courtesy he 'as bestowed upon me."

The warden eye's eyes bore deeply into Mrs. Lovett's widened orbs and chuckled menacingly. Skelter slowly stepped forward to close the space between his body and Mrs. Lovett's. The formidable man's dark gaze swept slowly over the woman's facial features, and traveled down to linger upon her soaked garments. The white material was damp due to the marsh water, and clung wetly to the swell of her curves. Skelter drew his eyes up from the trembling baker's body, and brought his lips within inches of her ear. Whispering softly, the man's words were a private exchange between him and his captive. "Well Eleanor dear, your foolish actions are leading me to believe that you find the kiss of my whip to be …pleasurable".

With that, the warden abruptly released Mrs. Lovett's hair and stepped back to address Todd as well. "You two have been thorns in my side from the very moment you set foot upon the island. No matter though. Today I shall spare you a sound lashing. However, before the day comes to a close tomorrow, I will see to it that each of you is dealt with accordingly." Skelter completed the delivery of his warning and cast a gaze over the grime covered Todd. The warden's face contorted in disgust, and placing a hand over his nose, he issued orders to the guards. "In the name of all things holy, douse him immediately." Feeling his task to be complete for the day, Skelter sauntered in the direction of the trees.

Three guards stepped forward, each carrying a small wooden bucket filled to the brim with stale water. The lukewarm liquid from each bucket was emptied over Todd's muddy head. Wet clothing and loosened clumps of mud clung snugly to the barber's skin, and his dark, matted hair flattened tightly against his head. Todd looked every bit the drenched feline; enraged and uncomfortable.

Mrs. Lovett's heart rate steadied considerably once Skelter disappeared from sight. Fear and disgust were quickly replaced by immense amusement, as her eyes absorbed Todd's appearance. The baker stepped forward to face Todd, laughter causing her brown eyes to glisten. "Maintain a stench of tha' nature Mr. T, and ya may succeed in killing me yet." Mrs. Lovett brought two slim fingers to pinch her nostrils shut in an exaggerated motion, her face crinkling in disgust. "Though I must applaud ya' love, for yer efforts are quite…eh, astoundin'."

--

_Benjamin Barker knew that he had been tossed unjustly into the chasm of hell, and the pit reeked of rum and cigar smoke. The walls and floor boards were brown with the remnants of his dried blood. Hells' cigar clutching inhabitants smirked, and closed in upon him. Skelter, Watson, Grant, Harrow and Walker. The five demons cackled and snarled, their eyes aglow as they cornered their victim. Benjamin Barker had no doubt, that these five unholy beings were direct descendents from the Lucifer himself. Barker had come to realize that he had been chosen as their prey, simply because a glimmer of hope had persisted to thrive in his eyes._

_It was a fool's hope. An improbable dream that one day his innocence would be revealed and he'd return to London, free to comfort his wife and raise his child. From the moment Barker set foot upon the God forsaken island, Skelter had recognized such hope and took the necessary measures to slay it. Barker had to commend the sadistic warden, for he had been quite successful. The barber was broken down by layers. Night, after hellish night, Barker's hope and faith had perished in a tempest of anguish and jeers._

_Yet, this night would be the last. Barker savored this knowledge as he slid on his bare belly to the far corner of the room, tiny splinters grazing his skin from the stained wooden planks of the floor. Waiting silently in the dark corner of Skelter's chambers, the barber knew that tonight's routine would be no different, for he had been placed in this very position every day for countless weeks. They had already gone through the whips, the lacerations upon his bare back from previous evenings were permanently imprinted into long jagged fissures of scar tissue. Watson had ground his boot heel into the back of Barker's head, forcing the barber to remain face down on the ground. Once Barker was in position, the slice of whips had torn the old scars from his skin, replacing them with fresh blood and seeping wounds. Next were the swift kicks, each dealt to his ribs by ten pairs of black boots. Skelter's booming voice could be heard above the rest, "I warned you once Barker and I shall continue to warn you. Your piss poor performance shall birth monuments of pain." Last came the cigars, and unlike the unpredictable rain of the whips, these scars would be placed in the same location; directly between Barker's shoulder blades. The pungent stench of his own skin being slowly scorched beneath the smoldering cigars filled Barker's nostrils. Skelter, Watson, Grant, Harrow, and Walker. There would be five fresh burn marks arranged in a circle, decorating the expanse of skin between his shoulder blades. _

_Throughout the entire ordeal, the guards chuckled and jeered, freely tossing their mockery at Barker. Yet to the guards' dissatisfaction, their puppet had refused to dance. Barker's lips remained tightly pressed together in silence. His face was bespattered with streams of blood, but his features were emotionless and still. Yes, this would be the last night. Tonight was the night the screams ceased and the spirit of Benjamin Barker would be laid to rest. After this night, the guards would have nothing to do with him. The death of Benjamin Barker would allow Sweeney Todd to live. All that remained of that pathetic wretch Barker, was a tapestry of scars. _

. _"I agree to follow any orders you see fit to send my way. However, by no means, shall I remove my shirt."_

Those words had fallen begrudgingly from Sweeney Todd's lips in a response to Cassius' commands. The hazy syllables derived from Todd's dream coaxed the barber from a deep slumber, into sharp consciousness. Sweeney sat erect in the middle of his cell, pulse racing as the faded images of his nightmare slowly dissipated into the cool air of the night. Midnight had cast its ebony shade upon the cracks in the wall and the dust on the floor. Moonlight leaked through the rusted bars, the ghostly sheen elongating the shadows of Todd's sleeping cellmates. Todd pressed his eyelids shut and raked a hand through his tangled locks, as if such an act could drive the phantoms of a tortured past out from within the darkened corners of his mind.

The barber supposed that Cassius's earlier orders had been the culprit. Todd knew that the captain's intentions were sincere, and that Cassius's only desire had been to execute a successful rescue. However, those strict orders had forced Todd to examine the sordid details of a past he only wished to smother.

Todd's fingers pushed back the collar of his shirt, and traced the flesh just below the nape of his neck. Calloused fingertips outlined the distinct rise of multiple scars, reminding Todd of his reason for rejecting Cassius's commands. Removal of his shirt would have revealed these marks, the only remaining evidence of his past weakness and a brand of failure and humiliation which defined Benjamin Barker. If Skelter's eyes were to fall upon the familiar pattern of scars etched into his flesh, death would be the inevitable penalty

During his fifteen year stay upon the island, Todd had grown accustomed to its merciless traditions. For every discrepancy there was an equivalent consequence, that of which Skelter carried out with the utmost satisfaction. Punishment for disobedience arrived in three phases. First and foremost was the failure to complete an assigned task. Such incompetence would result in either the swift agony of a severe lashing, or the deliberate deterioration of the body system through starvation. Secondly there was the matter of insubordination. If an unwise prisoner chose to disrespect a guard, or openly initiate a quarrel with a fellow prisoner, the isolation chambers awaited them. Lastly were the individuals who rejected their assigned fate, those few souls who had refused to die like shivering lambs within the walls of a prison; the attempted escapees. Those victorious in their effort would be free to soothe their shackle bitten wrists, and roam the earth without boundaries, until the memory of Devil's Island was reduced to dust and carried away by the winds of time. For those unfortunate souls whose valiant attempts had resulted in failure, the gallows patiently awaited their reluctant return. Constructed by the hands of prisoners, the gallows were simple contraptions, requiring nothing but wooden beams and a rough stretch of cord. Todd knew the gallows to be Skelter's main source of pleasure, for with such simplicity came a measure of power. At Skelter's command, the failed escapees would dance their final jig at the end of a fraying rope. If the barber were to be identified as Benjamin Barker by way of his scars, the warden would not hesitate in exacting justice. Having an escapee returned so easily into the palm of his hand would no doubt bring Skelter incomparable amounts of delight. For this very reason, Todd's scars would remain hidden. No one, least of all the warden, would get in the way of his revenge. Todd would not afford Mrs. Lovett the satisfaction of watching his limp body swing around a gallows's pole.

_Ah, yes._ _Mrs. Lovett_.

Todd's eyes shot open. Shifting positions, Todd allowed his gaze to fall upon the sleeping woman residing on opposite side of the cell bars. Mrs. Lovett lay silently in the far corner of her cell, sleep dominating her still figure. The woman's pale skin was illuminated by the silver glow of the moon, giving her form a spectral appearance. Auburn curls fanned out around the baker's face, framing her delicate bone structure as she slumbered. Pale lips parted with each gentle sigh, and soft inhalation caused her chest to rise and fall in a smooth languid motion.

Todd absorbed the woman's' every movement with careful observation. As the barber eyed his landlady, he began to reflect upon the previous three days. With the purest of satisfaction, Todd had witnessed as Mrs. Lovett was whipped, buried, and beaten. Through each of her trials, Todd had detected a distinct change in the baker, yet he hadn't been able to correctly identify it until now.

Sweeney Todd had always known that the impossible Mrs. Lovett could never be labeled as demure by anyone's standards. She was not a woman characterized by reddened cheeks, downcast eyes, or hushed tones. Not like his Lucy had been. However while residing in London, the baker's defining characteristic was her unfaltering tendency to comply. Mrs. Lovett's eagerness to receive Todd's commands played a key role in enabling his murderous habit. Todd had grown accustomed to her endless stream of "Yes, Mr. Todd" and "Right away, Mr. T". Mrs. Lovett's undying devotion and reliable obedience had become predictable. So predicable in fact, that the woman appeared to shrink, her presence diminishing to invisibility. It had gotten to the point where Todd hardly took notice of her form standing in his quarters, her desperate attempts to initiate conversation ending in failure. Todd realized that this was no longer the case.

This woman, who now stood tall and unflinching upon the dry earth of Devil's Island, no longer held resemblance to the fading image of his business partner. The main difference in Mrs. Lovett was apparent; she had openly defied him. From the merriment dancing in her eyes when she rose victorious from Skelter's whipping, to the determined force behind the blow which she had dealt him, and the tactics the clever bitch had utilized to trick him into the sandpit. Defiance brought the woman to life, her form surrounded by vibrant color which stung Todd's eyes. Through it all, another factor had been brought to Todd's attention.

.

Judging by the incident which had occurred at the sandpits, Todd realized that the warden found some sort of appeal or amusement in Mrs. Lovett's defiant nature. Todd mentally conjured up all the images displaying Skelter's behavior towards Mrs. Lovett during the earlier confrontation. The warden's interest could be judged by the firm placement of his hands within Mrs. Lovett's hair, the manner in which he had clutched her neck, and the way his lips lingered above the baker's ear. Something about the entire scenario gave the barber an intense urge to strangle the sadistic warden.

If the woman was to bleed, she would do so by Todd's hands alone. That flame which had been kindled within the baker would be doused solely through his punishment. Ensuring that the woman suffer for her lies was a task which Todd had earned possession of. The sight of Skelter attempting to claim his position caused Todd to tremble in fury. Mrs. Lovett was his alone to mold and break, and Todd knew he'd savor every moment of the process.

There was a force of life and fire brewing within the tiny witch. Todd could feel the effects of it every time he looked at her; the sight of Mrs. Lovett's confident poise sent heat seeping through his veins. Upon locking eye contact with the haughty baker, the barber's vision blurred and his head swam. Todd supposed these symptoms were birthed by fierce levels of rage. Or perhaps they were spawned by the anticipation of conquering a new challenge.

Sweeney Todd smirked in malevolent enthusiasm, for he had acquired a vivid insight and renewed motivation. Mrs. Lovett had finally succeeded in establishing herself as an equal, and this very fact would make his victory over her all the more gratifying.

_At least now the bitch can be considered a worthy opponent._

Vague hints of a smile curved Sweeney Todd's lips, as his eyes lids closed once more.

* * *

_**An update in less than two weeks, this must be a record for me. I will certainly write faster from now on, everyone's reviews combined with the right choice of music has been awesome motivation. Oh and I do hope that everyone caught the small hints of beginning Sweenett in there…it's coming.**_

_**If my writing has depressed you in anyway, I apologize. Here is the remedy: Go and read these TRULY AMAZING STORIES WHICH I AM PERSONALLY IN LOVE WITH (no seriously, they had me smiling all day long): Passing Strange by Pamena and Need/Savior by AngelofDarkness1605. **_

_**Thank you to my readers, those who added this to their faves/alerts, and to my beautiful reviewers, MAHAL KITA("I love you" in Tagalog): **__**BabyBluewinx**__**, **__**Just a Little Crazy**__** (whose PM's are a huge highlight of my day), **__**Marzi**__**, **__**ErisRocks**__**, **__**AngelofDarkness1605**__**, **__**MuchTooHighACost**__**, **__**Bespoken**__**, **__**Pamena**__**, **__**Rebellious Faerie**__**, **__**Scarlett Masquerade**__**, **__**XrazorxpiesX**__**, **__**Miss Poisonous**__** (my future beta), **__**lovett.x**__**, **__**BritishDracoLuvr**__**(The official Sweeney Protector) ,**__**riceandchopstixs**__**, **__**VerelLupin**__**, **__**carrotdrop**__**, **__**sarahisaninja**__**, **__**ByTheBeautifulSea**__**, **__**angelkake**__**, **__**laurakinsss**__**, **__**silver and rubies**__**, and **__**shmokki**__**.**_

_**(Please, lend me your feedback friends. I appreciate every piece I receive, whether it is to tell me what I've done right, or what I can improve on. Your reviews are greatly valued and appreciated….and they make me smile)**_

_**I invite all of the unsigned in folks to review as well, I changed my account settings so that I may see what you all think as well.**_

_** The methods described in this chapter are in fact the most effective way to escape wet quicksand, although in reality it would take hours to reach the shore once you get on your back. If anyone's wondering why Todd didn't sink down instantly, it's because sinking in wet quicksand takes hours, provided you stop struggling. On the other hand, if you end up in dry quicksand, than you're seriously screwed. Sorry. **_


	6. In Shackled Matrimony

_**Hello my most cherished readers. This is actually one of the shorter chapters I've written. Hop right in loves!**_

--

From the crisp air which accompanies the morning in its arrival, rose two voices; one of rationale, the other of arrogant folly.

"Sir the notion is ludicrous and absolutely unheard of. Do you have any idea how drastically the progress of the labor line will decline if you are to go through with this?" Watson pleaded with his commander. The second in command shook his head in doubt, causing the jowls of his face to quiver in protest.

Skelter curled his long fingers into a sturdy fist, and shot the head guard a warning glance. "I'll have none of that Watson. A lesson needs to be learned. It is my inherent duty to temper justice amongst men and before God."

Watson placed a pudgy hand upon Skelter's shoulder in a last attempt to reason. "But sir, placing two strengths together, neither being equally matched..."

Skelter tossed Watson's hand from his shoulder with a harsh shrug. "Watson, I appointed you merely to assist me, not to direct me in my divine right to leadership. Besides, I could do with a bit of amusement. Now count the shackles and issue the bloody order."

--

The location was different from the last two. If one sat still long enough to observe the soft tranquility of their surroundings, an individual could almost forget that they'd been sentenced to an unbearable life within a hellish fortress. The spot appeared to be one of the few places on the island where the shrubbery hadn't been completely removed. Long leaves in various shades of fresh green swayed lazily atop tall poles of timber. A thick canopy of butterflies created soft flashes of light yellow in the air. The most prominent features of the location were tall cliffs of jagged gray granite, atop of which sat the gaping mouths of three caves. Four zigzag layers of rickety wooden bridges, each held together by fraying scraps of twine, led to the tops of these cliffs.

_One saw for each set of partners; use this tool to cut down fifteen palm trees minimum. The process should be simple, now that two of you have been assigned to a single task. Carry your timber supply up the bridges, to the storage caves. The island relies on the timber for ship repair and tool creation, so keep scratches and splinters to a minimum. Skelter will not tolerate any damages due to prisoner incompetence. Partner assignments shall be appointed shortly; you are about to be introduced to your closest and dearest companion._

The instructions issued by Watson seemed harmless enough, and sighs of relief racked the prisoners at the thought that they were no longer required to face their labor tasks alone. Yet Mrs. Lovett knew her situation was destined to grow far worse. She was able to sense this fact in the cold sneers of Skelter's men. The tall warden stood amidst his cohorts, hands pressed tightly together, as if those pale palms contained the secret workings of his wicked soul. Watson stood to the side of the group, breathing heavily in the copious heat. The guard's thick lips moved silently as he counted multiple pairs of clanking shackles, devices intended to consummate a partnership between two prisoners.

The herd of prisoners from Cell 861 huddled quietly upon a small mountain of white sand. Guards sifted through the apprehensive flock, reading off partner assignments and attaching sets of two together at the wrists.

"Kipling and Illingworth."

"Swift and Dourden ."

Pairs of names rolled off Watson's tongue, followed by the sharp snap of shackles and the clear rattle of chains. Watson stopped directly in front of Mrs. Lovett and eyed her closely, pulling forth six feet of chain from a sack attached at his broad waist.

"And in adherence to Skelter's specific orders; Todd and Lovett."

At Watson's words Mrs. Lovett leapt to her feet, disbelief causing her legs to tremble violently. Surely her ears must have deceived her. Perhaps the heat and hunger had finally driven her to delusion. Skelter's cruelty had been anticipated, and she had barely been fortunate enough to dodge each of his obstacles attaining nothing more than scars and bruises. But this?

" Sir, tha' is impossible, surely ya' must be mistaken. A woman workin' beside a man on tha' same labor task? Tha' concept is unheard of, we are a' unmatched physical strength, and would only serve ta' slow each other's progress. Besides that, if ya' aven't noticed, tha' devil Todd intends to kill me!"

Watson shook his head solemnly, almost as if in regret. "Me orders were clear as day poppet. Now make this process painless for the both of us and stick out your right wrist. Do you wish to anger the warden further? You haven't exactly been placed in his good graces ."

"No." The baker's syllables wavered as she backed away from the guard. "I refuse sir, ya' 'ave no right ta do this. There are a' least five able bodied women wit' whom ya' can place me with…"

"After the foolish mistake you committed yesterday love, you are in no place to challenge my orders." Skelter's deep voice put an abrupt end to Mrs. Lovett's protests. The tall form of the pale warden stepped forth from behind the thick grove of trees, obstructing Mrs. Lovett's vision. Skelter took long strides towards Mrs. Lovett with Sweeney Todd following closely behind him. The two men, both equally formidable, stalked forward until they stood within close range of the petite baker. Skelter latched his talons upon Todd's arm, and in one swift motion, flung the quiet barber beside Mrs. Lovett.

The warden lowered his tone as he addressed the newly assigned partners. "As promised, you two shall pay for the havoc you've chosen to wreak upon my respectable establishment. Intolerable action never stands without consequence, and you fools have brought this upon yourselves. So suffer at my hands, or kill each other with your own. Though, either method shall bring me endless amounts of entertainment."

Clutching the back of Mrs. Lovett's neck, Skelter drew her face within inches of his lips, and addressed the woman with a rough whisper. "Now be a dutiful lass Eleanor, and hold out our right wrist."

Overwhelmed by the powerful hand of defeat, Mrs. Lovett shut her eyes as the clear clamping of iron sealed her fate, joining her to a smirking Sweeney Todd.

--

Sweeney Todd watched the woman's back muscles twitch. Beads of sweat formed a crown upon her reddened forehead, and deep breaths shook her chest. Surely the woman harbored an endless supply of death wishes. This fact could easily be confirmed, judging by the ease at which her impudent words flowed in the presence of men who held the ability to swiftly end her miserable existence. From the filth she flung upon Lucy's name, to her open defiance of Skelter's orders. It was clear to Todd that the baker required a lesson to contradict her stupidity, and the barber would not hesitate in enforcing such an education. Besides that pressing matter, the delightful fact was she had been placed directly in his eager hands, courtesy of Skelter's sadism.

However, Todd noted that the usually audacious Mrs. Lovett had dared not raise an eye to him since the task commenced. No insults were flung his way, and her habitual goading was absent. Her shoulders appeared to be squared in defense, and rotated in the direction opposite of him, as she dragged the rusty saw across the cracked bark of the tree. The distance separating the pair was vastly limited by six stubborn feet of chain, one ring clasped her right wrist, and the other encircled Todd's left. Sweeney Todd was immersed entirely in his observation of the baker, therefore leaving her to saw through the trunk alone.

"A little 'elp 'ere Mr. Todd? My progress is your progress, and so on and so forth." The woman muttered resentfully, the slightest hint of sarcasm floating beneath her breath. Mrs. Lovett's face reddened as her frustration increased. Her agitation appeared to grow with each tug of the saw.

_Lazy oaf of a man. Tha' bastard never did 'ave a problem lettin' others clean up his messes for 'im._

The instrument had been designed with a handle at each end, and was obviously intended for the use of two pairs of hands. As the baker drew harshly upon the saw's handle, the opposite side fell limp. The only progress gained was the flinging of tiny splinters into the air.

"And tell me, Mrs. Lovett, how is it that you believe my assistance is deserved?" Todd scoffed, lazily leaning his long frame against the trunk of the palm.

Mrs. Lovett huffed in frustration, and finally made eye contact with her unmoving partner. Raising the level of her voice and narrowing her glare in Todd's direction, she addressed the smug barber. "Mr. T, I find this situation ta' be just as unfavorable as you do. But whether ya' like it or not, ya' useless beast, we 'ave been placed in this together, so I highly suggest…"

Waves of rage kicked Todd's pulse into acceleration. The barber eyed Mrs. Lovett's neck, his free hand wrapping around the bark of the tree. His knuckles paled and tensed, fingers imitating the process of strangulation upon the long piece of timber. The blasted woman was in no place to offer her suggestions.

"That, Mrs. Lovett, is where you are gravely mistaken. Together is a term which shall never be applied to us. Your assistance has never been required, nor will it ever be. It was your selfish and conniving nature which ripped Lucy from this earth. I desire nothing more, than to watch you burn at the stake and descend to hell as the unholy bitch you are."

Mrs. Lovett stared into Todd's face, watching his vicious features contort with wicked amusement. The woman didn't care to acknowledge the depths to which the man's words had maimed the delicate tiers of her heart. Though Mrs. Lovett had put forth a valiant effort to discard her feelings, to her dismay the woman realized that her greatest enemy still clutched her heart within his palm. It was of no importance though. The woman's affections were all in vain at this point, and nothing she could say would matter to the soulless demon. Therefore the baker chose to mask her heartbreak with feigned courage, and decided to provide Todd with a scrap of honesty.

"I'm finished wit' yer foolish nonsense Mr. Todd, bloody finished! Lucy ceased to be your wife from the minute she decided ta' end her own life. As she held tha' poison in 'er hand I pleaded with the silly woman ta' stop, I did. But as soon as that poison crept down 'er throat, she was lost entirely. The woman went barkin' mad. Her care of Johanna ceased and at that point, and she was quite ready to give up on ya'. She tried ta' sell yer razors an' wardrobe for a bit a' cash, even though I offered ta' elp her wit a scrap of me own earnings." Mrs. Lovett found that there was little she could do to end the stream of her own words once their flow commenced. The woman stepped closer to Todd and gently placed a hand upon his arm, her touch causing the barber to flinch. She didn't allow his movement to detour her from completing the declaration. "Selfish I may be, but I never intended for any pain to befall ya'. I desired quite the opposite, ta' shield ya' from wot she had become. Mr. T, she could hardly recognize yer face. . I swear ta' ya' upon all I hold dear in this life, and the next, that I wos' only thinkin' a' you."

Todd ceased to breathe as Mrs. Lovett's speech came to a gentle halt. More than anything, the barber wished to strike the baker across her insolent face. Yet, something reflected in her gaze stopped his hand momentarily from seeking its satisfaction. In those wide brown orbs, Todd detected a glimmer of light. It was a subtle flash, a hint of emotion. The barber, although jaded and tossed about by the currents of injustice, still possessed the ability to recognize honesty. Mrs. Lovett's face didn't contain the mark of a deceitful criminal, eager to cover their back by any means necessary. Instead her features had adapted the look of an individual wrongfully accused. It was the desperate look of a woman who had been seated unjustly on the bench of damnation, battling wholeheartedly for her cause while clearly presenting proof of innocence to a biased judge. The truth in Mrs. Lovett's eyes attempted to burn Todd's stubborn rage to ashes, and crumble the barber's stone exterior. It was a sight clear and pure as the rising sun. One which Todd refused to acknowledge, and therefore the man was adamant in his rejection of it.

_The woman must have perfected the art of lying._

Todd increased his pull on the chain, with a rough growl. The motion caused the stunned baker to stumble, sending her hand across the jagged teeth of the saw. Blood seeped down Mrs. Lovett's arm as her body slammed against the tree. The baker screamed in pain and shock, but reacted instantly. Mrs. Lovett struggled to regain her footing upon the sand, attempting to use the tree as leverage.

"You require my assistance dear? I'm offering it freely," Todd hissed through clenched teeth, yanking the chain once more.

Mrs. Lovett's cheek made contact with the dirt. All air escaped the woman's lungs as her belly slammed against the ground. It was from that downward angle that Mrs. Lovett spotted all the aide she would require. A small pile of black rocks lay within arms reach. In one swift motion, the woman scooped the smooth granite weapons into her aching arms and leapt to her feet. Taking aim, Mrs. Lovett tossed the first rock at Todd, grazing her target harshly upon on his forehead. Caught off guard, Todd yelped in pain as a drop of blood trickled down his enraged features. The woman began to back away slowly, continuing the while desperate hurling of rocks at Todd's advancing form.

Mrs. Lovett was nearly out of breath when her back met a slab of timber, forcing her escape coming to a halt. Fortunately, the woman still clutched a small amount of rocks in her hands, the tiny weapons permitting her to issue a threat. "God in Heaven 'elp me, I will throw every single one a' these rocks at your thick head if ya don't back away."

Todd smirked and continued his advancement, despite the blood which seeped from his head. The barber gained confidence as he sensed the woman's rising terror, utilizing an ability only associated with predatory creatures. "Your words hold no ground with me."

"Stop, or else it'll be hell to pay for the both a' us. We are surely guaranteed a lashing for an incomplete chore…an' I know all about those scars on yer back Mr. Todd, the very reason ya' refused ta' listen ta' Kipling. It must be one hell of a penalty for the return of an escapee." Mrs. Lovett swallowed the thick lump which had wedged itself within her throat. The desperate woman prayed silently that her last escape resort would be effective.

Todd stopped dead in his tracks, breath hitching violently within his throat. The contempt and sadistic interest drained from his pale face as it was replaced by shock and realization. Todd's fists unclenched, his heart rattling his ribcage with its violent rhythm. The flooding sensation of failure weighed down the barber's form.

_Had she known all along? _

Todd gazed upon the tiny baker and emitted a low whisper. "Do you intend to threaten me, Mrs. Lovett?"

Startled by Todd's response, Mrs. Lovett brought her large eyes up to scan the barber's face. Shaking fiercely, the woman cast her wide brown orbs downward as she spoke, her words barely rising above a whisper. "N-no, Mr. Todd that wos not my intention."

Confusion gripped the barber, causing Todd to resume his advancement upon the baker. Shooting his arms out to press upon either side of Mrs. Lovett's body, Todd pinned her form against the rough bark of the tree with his weight. The barber was suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to exam the workings of this woman. Todd whispered gently into the baker's ear. "I could put an end to your life at any given moment; the snapping of your neck would be an effortless act to commit. You have been provided with countless demonstrations of this fact. I thought you had realized this, as displayed by your actions at the sandpits. If I were you, Mrs. Lovett, I would make sufficient use of this knowledge."

"Mr. Todd, with all that ya' 'ave done ta me, it is true that nothing remains of my faith or trust in ya'. The fact is that we are free to hate each other all we desire." The woman paused, the raw exposition of her vulnerability causing her to wince. "But by no means, do I want ta' see ya' hurt by the hand of that evil warden. Yesterday, my actions were committed in defense a' my life, and nothin' more. Mr. Todd, I trust ya' realize that if we don't complete this task, Skelter is sure to discover yer scars and identity. You may 'old me in the highest degree of contempt when we wake up tomorrow, but let's jus' finish and live through the remaining light a' today."

Todd studied the woman's face for a prolonged set of moments. As he continued to press against Mrs. Lovett, her chest softly rose and fell against his. The barber was paralyzed in place, heavy silence taking him over. The weight of Mrs. Lovett's words had overwhelmed him.

Then slowly removing the pressure of his body from his partner, Todd grabbed the opposite side of the saw. The pair worked in stunned silence, his firm grip upon the instrument complimenting the steady rhythm of Mrs. Lovett's pulls.

--

Once the last exhausted prisoner completed their descent from the cliff side, the group began the long trudge to the cell huts. Brown clouds of dust formed along the trail sides, kicked upward by the heavy drag of tired feet. The sun set in the distance, removing its fiery presence to welcome the comforting blanket of cool night shade.

Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett, still bonded by an iron chain, marched side by side along the path. The golden hue of evening lit their solemn faces, both parties maintaining silence. Todd hung his head, deeply immersed within the throes of contemplation. Mrs. Lovett's words lingered, embedding themselves deeply within the corners of his mind. Every so often, Sweeney Todd would shift his gaze in the baker's direction. A disturbing series of concepts threatened the man's conscience, prompting him to question the root of his every belief. Mrs. Lovett's refusal to reveal Todd's identity had altered the man's stubborn foundation, in more ways than he'd like to admit. The kindness exhibited openly within the woman's soft eyes taunted the barber, beckoning the growth of fresh curiosity and a single question. Was it possible, by an outlandish stretch of the imagination, that genuineness could live within this woman's nature?

Taking another glance at his labor partner, Todd noticed the dried blood staining the pale skin of Mrs. Lovett's arm. Further down, within the soft flesh of her palm, sat a deep crimson gash. Her wounds were undoubtedly a result of their earlier struggle with the saw . Todd applied a tight grip around the white cloth of his sleeve, and tore forcefully. Once successful in attaining a lengthy strip of cotton, the barber gently encircled Mrs. Lovett's wrist, and placed her small hand within the center of his palm. The startled woman remained speechless, as the cold barber smoothed the makeshift bandage around the wounded tissue. As Todd's hand brushed across Mrs. Lovett's soft flesh, he noted a vast increase in the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips.

"If we are to complete our tasks together, we can't have you slowing down the process with injury." Todd declared gruffly, attempting with all his might to ignore the charge of warmth which jolted his nerves as he dressed the scarlet abrasion. Disgust and bewilderment instigated the rapid removal of the barber's hand from Mrs. Lovett's skin.

A violent battle of wills and protests had waged itself within Sweeney.

_What in the blasted hell are you doing Todd? This woman is only capable of fueling her own selfish needs; she is deceptive and vile in every sense. Do not, by any means, lose sight of what she did to Lucy_, _your_ _Lucy. Maintain your guard and serve your purpose. Earn her trust, and destroy her without regret. The bitch was able to cloud your mind and blind your eyes once, she won't be allowed to commit such unforgivable actions again. You cannot afford to fail Lucy twice, you useless fool. _

Todd permitted the river of his shame and confusion to flow freely in its assault, until a single suspicion caused a rapid interruption of the violent surge. The barber ceased his slow gait to turn to his partner in inquiry.

"Mrs. Lovett, may I ask how you came to know of my scars?" Todd questioned the baker with a wary sideways glance, strong curiosity causing the barber to push his former anger aside.

Mrs. Lovett quickly glanced to the sky, averting her eyes from Todd's face. Stifling a nervous stutter, the woman replied. " I-I did all yer laundry while we wos in London dear, including tha' shirts. Or 'ave ya forgotten that so easily?".

The baker's shaky answer hadn't appeased the inquisitive barber. "That makes no sense, my most practical madam. I was alone upon the removal of each bloodied shirt, and completely dressed when you came to collect my garments."

Blushing heavily, Mrs. Lovett knew she had been caught. The baker recalled the convenience of large windows, the benefits of a light step upon creaking wooden planks, and her well acquired ability to spy upon the forbidden with a silent eye. Mrs. Lovett's sleepless evenings were at one time attributed to the glances she had captured of Mr. T's bare chest and back during her quiet escapades, the heated images forcing her to toss the blankets from her lustful body.

The woman smiled shyly as she continued her quiet trek down the beaten path. Within the whole humiliating situation, there was a bit of humor to be found. Mrs. Lovett's intent to assist the man had resulted in an unintentional confession, the confession of a guilty voyeur.

_Bloody ' ell. _

_--___

_** Judging from the reviews of the last two chapters (all of which I am extremely grateful for) I've noticed a pattern. A few of you don't seem in favor my tendency to describe every little detail (force of habit I suppose, picked up from writing case studies for clients) and on the other hand, a number of you enjoy the vast descriptions. So in this chapter, I did a little experiment. I attempted to find the middle ground where both reader and author could be happy. I cut some length out, left some length in, and found that this chapter came to me with ease**__. __**Hopefully you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think.**_

_**So she spied on Sweeney Todd undressing? Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same if you were given the chance) Give the poor woman a break; at least she was able to use it to her benefit and his. **_

_**I'm so very sorry that it took me so long to respond to your individual reviews and messages; the internet connection hasn't been functioning in my house. I'm actually posting this chapter from my friend's house, who happens to live two hours away from my hometown. Thanks to my beloved and patient readers and reviewers: **_Pamena(hope you feel better),BabyBluewinx, hoteltokio, Bespoken, riceandchopstixs, Miss Poisonous, ErisRocks, sarahisaninja, SapSorrow, MuchTooHighACost, Lizzienuss88, MrsMargeryLovett, XrazorxpiesX, Rebellious Faerie, AngelofDarkness1605, RobertChaseICU, carrotdrop, Marzi, LivelyLenore, _**and for the not-signed-in reviewer: lina- I'm glad you've enjoyed the intensity of the story)THANK YOU!**_

_**Insufferable is next)**_

_** I've read various articles, hopefully all were scholarly sources, and each stated that prisoners upon Devil's Island were indeed shacked together in completion of certain forms of labor. If anyone's interested in these articles, I have them cited in my profile. Thank you all again so very much**__._


	7. Seven Hours for Two Partners

In certain instances, even when a state of unconsciousness is imposed, the human body will instinctively act in protest. Fingernails stabbed into calloused flesh. Droplets of sweat drenched a pale plane of muscle, the effect simultaneously producing both intolerable waves of heat, and the fierce tremble of an icy chill. A brow withered and furrowed in reaction to the impatient tempest which brewed beneath the surface. This particular torment was the raw truth, umasked only in dreams. When the most shadowed compartments of the soul would open and reveal hidden secrets to their owner. No man, regardless of his position or stature, was ever sparred this cruel form of torture. Needless to say, our dear sadistic warden was no exception to the rule.

_An elderly man in a black cassock glared down upon his apprentice in blatant disapproval. A mangled mass of wrinkled skin created a loose pocket around dark eyes. Scanty tuffs of thinning gray hair sat atop the man's dry scalp. Claudus Skelter immediately recognized the dreadful vision as his master, the man responsible for passing the honorable trade of punishment down to the young warden. _

"_Of course Claudus, if you beat them down successfully the first time, they cannot get up to defy you again. But she has risen, has she not? Why is that she grasps success within her palm, while you wallow in pathetic failure? If you had completed your job thoroughly on that very first day, she wouldn't have gained this foolish sense of confidence. However, fret not my lad, for you are quite the fortunate soul. I am here to offer you another chance. You now have the means to end this foolish charade, once and for all." _

_Smirking in satisfaction, the older gentleman extended the leather handle of the whip in the direction of Skelter's clenched fist. Emerging from the darkened corner of the chamber, a tiny figure appeared before the warden's vision. The petite form of a quaking Eleanor Lovett knelt directly before him. Her dress had been torn down the back, exposing a bare expanse of pale velvet to the hungry eyes of the vicious warden. Trembling in anticipation, the warden grasped the torturous device between unsteady fingers. Skelter stood motionless above Eleanor's form for a prolonged set of moments, eyes darting quickly from the woman's form to his master' critical eye. Suddenly, a sob of anguished defeat ripped from the warden's lips as he fell to his knees. It was the pitiful moan of a starved captive, who had finally been broken down by empty promises of nourishment. Skelter unlatched firm fingers from the hilt of his whip, allowing the merciless contraption to lie impotent upon the floor. Pressing burning lips to the soft skin of Eleanor's pale shoulder, Skelter tasted the sweet nectar of complete abandon, and felt his form separate into a million scorching shards of ecstasy and release._

"_Forgive me, master."_

Mercifully, escape arrived in the form of consciousness. Skelter's temples ached ferociously and his body hummed with vibration, after effects of the imagery's heated assault. Disgust permeated his mind, chasing out the sinful notions.

This foolishness would end today; her victory would come to a crashing halt beneath Skelter's heel. Surely when the bitch finally faltered and her pride had been reduced to cowering, she would writhe deliciously beneath the crush of his palm. The warden contained the proper methods to initiate such an occurrence, and they would be enforced on this very day.

And judging by the unwelcome nature of his dreams, the warden knew he was no longer in possession of alternative options.

--

The peppery stench of fresh gunpowder hung in the air, as multiple muskets sang out their warning songs. A unanimous vote was soon to be obtained at gun point.

"Listen closely you filth, for I shall not repeat myself twice. We are to engage in a lesson of mathematics today, although I do realize that none of it has the chance of developing into logical concepts within your simple little minds. The time allotted to male labor partners for completion of timber collection is thirteen hours. Female labor partners are allowed fourteen hours. Correct?"

Skelter sneered at the chained flock kneeling at his boots. Seven guards raised their muskets, aiming their weapons at the group. The threat was an obvious cue, signaling that each prisoner was expected to nod in agreement.

The warden continued. "I ask you now, ladies and gentlemen, to set your eyes upon your fellow prisoners, Eleanor Lovett and Sweeney Todd." Skelter swept a hand in the pair's direction.

Mrs. Lovett silently cursed the warden and her lips moved in a private plea for help, addressed to whatever higher power may have been attentive at the time. Todd's features remained stoic.

"We have here, the sole male and female partnership in the history of Devil's Island. Now, you all must ponder this fact carefully. Look at this woman, basking in her laziness. Do you truly believe that it is a fair allowance, to afford her the help of a man, and not expect more 

of her? And should this man be allowed to work at his leisure simply because he must carry the sow's weight? They are both disgusting examples of sloth, an iniquity which will certainly lead to ultimate damnation. Should such privileges be allowed to this unworthy duo?"

Musket chutes were lifted to captive heads once more. "No, sir."

"Well children, you are in luck, for today justice will be tempered and I shall appease your every desire." Skelter rotated in Todd and Lovett's direction. "Seven hours and twenty palms for theses truants, to expect less would be considered unjust."

--

_Seven hours. Seven bloody hours, and one bundle of dead weight._

Sweeney Todd's thoughts centered upon Mrs. Lovett. Two of those seven hours had already sifted effortlessly through the crucial cracks of time. Todd observed in irritation and disgust, as his initial plan literally fell flat before his eyes. Four palms placed neatly atop the experienced shoulders of men would have been quite the effortless feat, and the possibility of meeting the seven hour quota would have become a reality. However, this new method of doubling the supply of palms upon Mrs. Lovett's feeble shoulder's had proved to be utterly fruitless. With the sight of Todd's winded partner displayed before him, it was painfully apparent that this particular strategy would result in complete failure.

Mrs. Lovett panted heavily and cursed profusely, in obvious abandon of all lady-like qualities. The baker's bare feet scraped against the dusty earth, as she struggled to hoist the massive wooden burden above waist level. Tiny shoulders faltered beneath the weight of splintering wood. Allowing the mass of timber to drop into a haphazard pile at her feet, the exasperated baker addressed her accomplice.

"Mr. T, this blasted plan a' yers is as useful as a pocket wit a hole in it. These achin' bones can hardly handle the weight of two palms. For ya' ta demand that I carry four is ludicrous."

Todd scanned his former landlady's scrawny form in blatant disapproval. "Haven't you the slightest notion of how to lift properly? Make proper use of your back and shoulders".

Inhaling deeply, Mrs. Lovett's form grew rigid with resentment. "Ya' speak a' me as if I'm a blasted beast of burden. The only thing I ave practice liftin is me' rollin' pin."

"And a few hundred dead limbs if my memory serves me correctly." Todd retorted coldly.

Mrs. Lovett threw a threatening glance in the direction of the smirking barber. " And ya would 'ave knowledge of 'ow tryin tha' task is, if ya bothered ta offer yer services once in a while."

The line of Sweeney Todd's lips curled as he digested the bitter flavor of Mrs. Lovett's words. The state of their welfare had been openly threatened and the insufferable woman still insisted on initiating an argument. At this point if survival were to become a reality for the duo, threats appeared to be the barber's only form of possible persuasion.

Todd stalked forth, forehead crumpled by lines of disapproval. Wrapping cold fingers around Mrs. Lovett's trembling wrist, the barber compressed the delicate bones, and laid forth his instructions.

"Either you lift the bloody palms, or I crush and amputate the useless mass of flesh which has served to delay all progress thus far."

--

_Five hours, Todd. The remainder of your worthless life shall be determined by the next five hours. And being forced to depend on her limited abilities has all but decided your fate. _

Todd had watched in silence as Mrs. Lovett attempted to comply with his orders. Following Sweeney's lead, the baker had gritted her teeth and hoisted the bulk of timber atop her quaking shoulders. The duo was painfully aware that the mismatch in height and strength was their major deterrent. Palms slid back and forth, to and fro, as they struggled to steady their burden. The unfortunate Mrs. Lovett encountered the vast amount of trials and injury.

With cruel regularity, the sturdy mass of palm trees would slide forth and graze the baker's cheek with their rough wooden edges. Mrs. Lovett's head rocked and swayed each time a tree collided harshly with her neck and collarbone. Ascension up the bridges to the storage caves quickly presented itself as a strenuous and agonizing task for the baker. The steep incline and massive weight of the timber load brought Mrs. Lovett to her knees countless times. The once pale shade of her legs and shoulders had quickly transformed into a mosaic of embedded splinters and dried blood.

Todd grunted begrudgingly as he lifted the limp Mrs. Lovett to her feet once more. Her cracked lips parted as a choked moan escaped her throat. The barber's gaze absorbed his landlady's feeble condition. Pain and exhaustion reflected brightly within the baker's wide eyes. However, since Todd had cruelly demanded her cooperation, all protests had dissolved into silence. The sole remaining indications of the woman's weakness were the desperate, agonized whimpers that accompanied each acquired wound. With a determined groan she was back upon her feet without grievance.

"When the will is ready, the feet are light." A deep voice, laced with mockery addressed the dismal duo. Skelter's tall form glided forward. The warden eyed the labor site, analyzing the pair's slow progress. "Five palms in three hours? For shame, my children. Speed and endurance shall have to grant you their greatest mercy if you are to avoid the consequences of failure."

The warden extended a palm in Mrs. Lovett's direction, long fingers pushing a lock of hair from her forehead. "Time is indeed a precious gift, wouldn't you agree love?" Skelter allowed his hand to linger upon her skin for a moment, then turned sharply and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Mrs. Lovett waited until as the form of the warden had disappeared completely amongst the trees. The baker turned a face stained by the shadow of bruises and dirt coated gashes, in Todd's direction.

A breath of uncertainty passed from between her lips and her syllables wavered. " Wot if tha monster is right, Mr. T? At tha rate we're goin, we need hand a' God 'imself if we are ta' finish tha' task."

Mrs. Lovett's anxious concerns fell upon deaf ears. Sweeney Todd had grown silent, struck rigid as he contemplated Skelter's statement. Notions filtered and flashed through Todd's mind, an array of brilliant sparks forming an epiphany. One which Todd hoped had the ability to transform itself into salvation.

_When the will is ready, the feet are light._

" Run. Our sole option is to run." Todd's fingers clenched together as his idea revealed itself in firm, but monotone syllables. "We're going to run for the remainder of the granted time. Run up and across the bridges and deposit the timber within the caves. If we continue in this fashion, you would only be required to carry two planks at once."

Mrs. Lovett's mouth slowly fell agape. The exhausted woman was shocked into infuriated silence at the man's suggestion. She could hardly manage the single flight of stairs leading from her pie shop to the tonsorial parlor without feeling the breath seep from her lungs. The notion of running with a mass of timber atop ones' shoulders for four consecutive hours was simply unfathomable. If the man standing before her had been anyone other than the maniacal razor swinging Sweeney Todd, Mrs. Lovett would not have hesitated in slapping some quick sense into the daft individual.

The baker's voice began as a calm tenor, but quickly escalated into an undignified shriek.

"Mr. Todd, ave' you gone an' lost yer _fockin _mind!?" Being certain to place the proper emphasis on specific words, the baker continued. "It would be sheer exhaustion, not tha' bite a' tha' warden's whip, wot puts me life ta' an end if ya' insist tha' we go through with this foolishness!"

Sweeney Todd turned in Mrs. Lovett's direction. The barber easily identified the fear and doubt illuminated within his landlady's large brown orbs. Todd's temper flared and he was more than eager to inflict the necessary punishment for her audacity. Yet, to Todd's utter 

frustration, the harsh words and malicious methods of coercion seemed to be trapped tightly at the back of his throat. The cause behind this was unidentifiable, yet maddening.

Gritting his teeth with a silent curse, Sweeney Todd lightly set a hand upon his partner's sun burnt shoulder spoke. "Run today, live to see tomorrow. It's as pure and simple as that."

Mrs. Lovett fell silent as the truth in Sweeney Todd's permeated the air. Perhaps it was the welcome weight of Mr. Todd's fingers resting upon her shoulder, or the unfamiliar air of calm enveloping the barber's words which caused reality to fracture her reluctance. The baker recognized that failure to successfully complete this task would sentence this man to death at Skelter's hands. This intolerable man whom she both hated with an incendiary force, yet loved with all of her traitorous heart. If that were to occur, Mrs. Lovett knew she'd gladly resign herself to the clutches of transience.

Summoning her courage, Mrs. Lovett sighed deeply and met Sweeney Todd's gaze. " Ow' do ya' suggest I go about this Mr. T.?"

--

Never once had Sweeney Todd believed that the fifteen hellish years spent sweating and laboring upon Devil's Island would prove useful in any way. Up until the current moment, the barber had reduced the memory of his prison sentence to ashes. Yet the man acknowledged as he conquered the steep inclineof the bridge, that without his past experience, death would have been a guarantee. Todd knew how to negotiate with both the wind and the heat, creating a fair balance between the two extremes. He knew that the method of air intake was imperative; one must allow the blessed substance to expand and fully inhabit the lungs. His struggling counterpart was not tackling the task with such ease.

Mrs. Lovett had never known that pain of this extent, had existed anywhere in the vast expanse of history. Her muscles were enveloped by stinging heat and the delicate tissue of her lungs expanded to capacity. The pain birthed by constant strenuous movement invaded her body as an unannounced intruder. Yet the woman refused to cease her progress, and the duo continued to wage a battle between straining muscles and a merciless slope. The pair made quite a sight, and a handful of guards put a pause to their duties in order to gaze on in amusement.

Todd lead the duo, taking long strides as Mrs. Lovett followed behind him. Whenever the baker's pace slowed to an unsatisfactory limp, Todd would tug lightly on the timber planks and deliver instructions over his shoulder. "Draw the air in through your nostrils, let your lungs take their fill, and expel through your lips."

Fellow prisoners, who had been afforded the luxury of time, displayed their sympathy for the unfortunate pair. Each time Todd and Mrs. Lovett tackled the incline, their peers sparred them the inconvenience of collision by swiftly moving to the side and affording the pair sufficient space to sprint past the crowd.

The cycle was a cruel one, seeming to stretch across the fields of infinity. Drag the blade across the tree. Hoist the timber up with splinter ridden hands upon aching shoulders. 

Continue the agonizing journey. Until the pair was down to their last hour, with four palms still standing. The trees appeared to taunt the two partners with their incessant swaying, and jeered in the faces of the unfortunate duo with the redundant rustle of leaves.

The endless trudging up the bridges appeared to be taking the ultimate toll on the tiny baker. Her pale foot had grown swollen with an angry red flush as the hours filtered by. As Todd's confident pace persisted, Mrs. Lovett's foot began to drag heavily along the rough wooden boards of the bridge. Silently cursing, Mrs. Lovett braced the muscles of her calf in order to raise her foot and resume the pattern of her stride. Waves of painful protest shot through her body, radiating from leg to abdomen. Physical boundaries had been breached and limits were surpassed. The baker's heart clenched in fear as she realized that lifting her foot was no longer a possibility for her.

Suddenly, almost simultaneously with the realization of her injury, Mrs. Lovett's foot slid beneath a loose bridge plank. Unable to lift her foot from its wedged position, the baker was forced to arrive at a complete halt. Unfortunately for Mrs. Lovett, Sweeney Todd was unaware of her current predicament and failed to cease the speed of his sprint. The opposition of movement forced the tiny baker to jerk forward, her ankle twisting harshly between the bridge boards. A shrill yelp of agony ripped from Mrs. Lovett's lips as her body slumped into a defeated heap.

Feeling the weight of the timber falter, Sweeney Todd immediately whipped around to face Mrs. Lovett.

The woman had crumpled upon the floor, delicately wilted. Her features were decorated by a fierce flush, chest rattled by vigorous panting. Todd's eyes traveled over her form, passing over the torn cloth of her garments, to the various gashes and bruises adorning every patch of exposed skin, until finally landing upon the swollen flesh of her ankle. This sight provided Sweeney Todd with two intense urges. First and foremost, Todd longed to wring the woman's slender neck beneath his fingers for the vast inconvenience she was providing. The second urge being to recognize and understand the depth of her broken state.

It was a fact that heavy malice towards the insolent baker still housed itself within Sweeney Todd's chest. The barber's clemency would not be squandered on the woman's unforgivable sin, and revenge would be a reward he could slowly savor. However as the day had progressed, a slight stirring had established itself as an unwelcomed neighbor to Todd's rage. With each synchronized step the pair took towards the storage caves, through each swing of the saw sent across the bark by their combined strength, and each time the baker faltered and lost her balance, a foreign sensation began to take residence within Todd. At the sight of the woman before him, willingly subjecting herself to mental and physical torture for his sake, the rhythm of Todd's heart and pulse rose to an accelerated rate. Warmth seeped through Todd's chest and hands, a strange heat which had absolutely nothing to do with the strength of the sun and demanded his acknowledgement. Yet Sweeney Todd would have none of it, opting instead to smother the persistent kindling with forceful spite.

However, the injury inflicted upon the baker could not be ignored as easily, especially due to the fact that their last hour had fallen upon them. The swelling would require soothe. Tearing a long shred of cloth from his sleeve, the barber made his way to the walls of the cliff. Shimmering droplets of morning dew still clung to the black shade of the rock. After soaking the entire length of the cloth in the cool liquid, Todd slowly knelt before the whimpering woman.

"I'm so sorry Mr. T." The soft whisper escaped the baker's trembling lips as fresh tears cascaded down her reddened cheeks. It was the first instance upon the island, in which Mrs. Lovett had allowed herself to weep freely. Self disgust washed over her at the thought that her incompetency had ensured her barber's demise.

A silent and stoic Sweeney Todd brought the white cloth to Mrs. Lovett's face, grazing it softly over the flesh in order to absorb her tears. The woman instantly stiffened at the barber's unpredictable action. Brown eyes, soft and wet met the barber's dark gaze and lingered there.

Todd broke eye contact immediately.

Bringing his focus to Mrs. Lovett's ankle, Sweeney proceeded to gently cradle the limb, encircling it with the damp cloth. The cold sensation against her aggravated flesh seemed to pacify the burn. Mrs. Lovett reveled shortly in the merciful presence of relief. Until she felt the lean muscles of Sweeney Todd's limbs encircle her back and settle beneath her knees.

"Mr. T, wot are on earth are ya' doin?" She questioned, sincerely puzzled.

"Don't be daft woman. You aren't in any condition to walk down the length of these bridges." Todd stated as he continued to hoist the reluctant bundle.

Mrs. Lovett tensed her body within Todd's grasp and lightly tapped her fingers against his shoulders in protest. " Yer quite right Mr. T, I do not intend ta' walk the length of these bridges as if I'm taking a bloody Sunday stroll. I intend ta' run them. Now kindly set me down, and pick up those planks ya' lazy arse."

Utterly dumbfounded, Sweeney Todd slowly brought Mrs. Lovett to her feet. Keeping his dark gaze fixed upon her petite form, the barber witnessed as his landlady sauntered to the pile of fallen timber,and waited patiently for her partner to rejoin her.

_Eminently practical, and yet appropriate as always._ Sweeney Todd's past words burst to the front of his memory with a resounding echo.

--

_And the seventh hour escapes us.._

Collapsing rather ungracefully onto the soft bed of sand, Mrs. Lovett's flesh hummed with relief. Closing her eyes and purring in contentment, the woman stretched the length of her aching body along the warm earth. With mere minutes left to spare, Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett had made the last journey uphill to the storage caves. Her ankle had groaned in shrieking protest each time it beat upon the ground, but the woman insisted on pressing forward. Todd ran in complete silence, occasionally turning back to assure her presence remained behind him. Depositing the last despised pile of timber had proved to be the single most gratifying experience of Mrs. Lovett's lifetime.

Sweeney Todd's quiet form sat beside her atop the sand mound. The iron clanking of their conjoining chain was the sole form of exchanged communication. Soft sighs escaped the woman's lips as her legs extended in front of her. The slight motion caught Todd's eye, drawing his gaze downward to Mrs. Lovett's bandaged limb. If there was a possibility of 

infection as a result of the injury, Todd felt inclined to be aware of it. After all, any factors which could serve to delay their labor progress should be made known to him.

Shifting his body, Todd arrived at a sitting position directly in front of Mrs. Lovett. The baker gazed at her partner in confusion. To be within such close proximity of the aloof gentleman was still a foreign concept to Mrs. Lovett.

Bringing a large palm to Mrs. Lovett's bare skin, Sweeney Todd's fingers traced the outline of the bandage. With gentle care and graceful ease, Todd raised the white edges of the linen to peer underneath. The reddened shade of the flesh persisted, yet the swelling had subsided significantly beneath the water's icy temperature. The cold skin of Todd's hand contrasted with the heated surface of Mrs. Lovett's flesh. Slowly sliding calloused fingers across the damage, Todd watched as his fingertips left white imprints behind within the scarlet skin. Evidence of his presence. In that moment, Sweeney Todd knew it had been a mistake to lay hands upon her. Warm shivers radiated through Todd's fingertips, traveling swiftly through his limbs, and seeping into his pulsing veins. The violent stir of unfamiliar sensations assaulted Todd's conscious, lulling his senses into a defenseless state of slumber.

Mrs. Lovett had ceased to breathe the instant Todd's hand came into contact with her flesh. The baker knew that the sole purpose of the act was to provide her with medical aid. However, Mrs. Lovett's mind and body were far from finding relief. How the tiny baker trembled helplessly beneath the barber's hands. It was a wonder that Todd had failed to sense her body's reaction, limbs quaking and heart contracting.

Mrs. Lovett drew in a ragged breath, the noise serving to swiftly expel Todd's hand from the women's skin.

"The pain shouldn't increase in its severity. Walking shall come with eventual ease."

Leaping to his feet after presenting his diagnosis, the barber paced as far as the length of chain would permit.

The confining bond was soon removed.

"ELEANOR LOVETT!"

Watson's rotund shape had crept up behind the pair. Drawing a rusted key from deep within his pocket, the guard released the two captives from their shackles. Circling Mrs. Lovett's wrist with fleshy fingers, Watson harshly jerked the baker forward. The woman stumbled, but maintained a standing position as she was forced to keep stride with the guard.

" Skelter requests the grace of your presence within his chambers."

--

_Fresh blood became acquainted with the crisp vapors of night. The air's icy chill transformed the hot, scarlet liquid into a coppery splatter against Sweeney Todd's pale flesh. Shackles scraped away the skin of the barber's wrists and ankles, creating fresh wounds. Todd knelt in a pool of his own blood, chained mercilessly to the walls of Skelter's chamber. Mere inches away from Todd's captive limbs lay a faithful cohort and trustworthy companion; his razor. Leering, the warden's topaz eyes contrasted against the ebony shroud of night. The _

_warden stalked forward, the long leather strap of his whip dragging along the wooden floorboards. He held the tattered scraps of Todd's shirt in one hand, and wore a satisfied grin upon thin lips. As Skelter advanced, Todd battled against his metal confinement in order to reach the silver salvation._

"_Of all the men you sentenced to death Todd, how could you fail in finishing off your greatest enemy; Benjamin Barker? The fool had a disgusting tendency to whimper upon being beaten. Such weakness should have been awarded by death. It was my privilege, a right you stole from me. No matter now, my friend. Fate has delivered you into my grasp, and I have every intention of draining the life from your insignificant veins. I'll bleed you dry Barker, and in God's name, I shall set you free of your shortcomings." The floorboards screamed beneath the weight of the warden's boots. _

_Instantly the captive barber knew that he would be forced to embrace either temporary pain or certain death. Ignoring the protests of his anguished muscles, Todd struggled against the stinging bite of the chains until his fingertips kissed the cold steel of his ultimate goal. Comfort seeped through his beaten body, and relaxation blessed his muscles. It had been so long, and the satisfaction of reunion drew a chuckle from his lips. Todd savored the slide of the metal hilt between his fingertips, knowing his friend would never fail him. Todd's breathing steadied within his chest. _

_Now, with a sigh you grow warm in my hand, my friend. _

_And indeed, it was warmth which flooded the barber's being. The man shut his eyes and sighed. Yet, as relief flooded over him, Todd realized his cold iron companion had little to do with this. The resilient silver faded into the dark, and was replaced by shades of bright auburn. A familiar scent, composed of vanilla and cinnamon, crept pleasantly into the barber's nostrils, smoothing out the turbulent currents of the man's soul. The soft, perfumed curtain beckoned Todd's touch and awakened a foreign curiosity within the barber. Succumbing to his urges, Todd buried his bloodied cheek within the silken blanket of curls. For once, the barber's bloodlust dissipated and became replaced by soothing comfort. Both Skelter's form and the cruel shackles dissipated into a pale cloud of vapor. Finally free, Todd lightly ran fingertips over the dainty curve of a feminine jaw line, delicate cheekbones, and wet lips. His breath caught in his throat as the softest pair of brown eyes searched his face. Had she always been here?_

_Mrs. Lovett's full lips parted in a gentle whisper. "By no means, do I want ta' see ya' hurt by the hand of that evil warden."_

_Did he believe her? God in Heaven knew how terribly he wanted to. _

_Suddenly, a quick flash of soft yellow captured Todd's eye. Lucy stood quietly in a darkened corner, a flood of tears staining her pink cheeks as she observed the couple. Her small hands extended in Todd's direction, desperately beckoning him to join her._

_Lucy…_

And in that instant, a harsh burst of light flooded Todd's vision. His dream spiraled and faded into the midnight air as his eyelids shot open. The barber sat up straight in the middle of his damp cell. Running a hand over his chest, Todd's breathing steadied as his fingers contacted sweat drenched linen; the shirt still protected his scars. It was the same dream, a contorted vision of twisted wills which had consistently tormented him night after night.

Swiftly shutting his eyes in frustration, Todd gritted his teeth and sent his knuckles flying into the stone wall. Not once since Mrs. Lovett had offered the promise to conceal his true identity, had Todd failed to hear that declaration of peace ring within his ears. Her words assaulted him as he sought refuge in the realm of slumber, as well as when he toiled beside her within the labor sites. From the digging grounds, to the marshlands, and finally to the multiple instances in which they became partners at the timber camps. Through it all, Todd had begun to plant the seeds of a new plot within his mind, a second attempt at successful vengeance. Brute force had proved futile; the woman had inexplicably outsmarted him. Now, however, Todd believed he held the key to obtaining satisfactory results; trust. Earn her companionship, her loyalty, and her compliance once again. Only then would retribution arrive quickly, delivered neatly into the palm of his hand.

Yet with the onset of this solution, came the birth of a new inquiry; why was it that when his inhibitions subsided and the subconscious conquered, did Todd experience such an overwhelming sense of calm in her presence? And why did his traitorous flesh heat in such an unbearable fashion upon the slightest contact with her skin? Self-disgust emanated throughout Todd's conscience.

The barber shut weary lids and pressed the warmth of his forehead against cold stone, attempting to shatter any misconceptions clouding his mind. Upon reopening his eyes to face Mrs. Lovett's cell, Todd made came upon a discovery that forced his form to snap to a rigid state.

Certainly, the hours had surpassed midnight. Darkness leaked into every corner of the cell. Mrs. Lovett had been dragged from the labor site to Skelter's chamber while the sun's fierce presence burned vividly against the sky, countless hours ago.

She was yet absent.

--

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND REVIEWING, MY LOVES!! My heart warms at the very thought. I know it's been very long since an update, so thank you for not forgetting me .

First and foremost, I want to apologize for not having my usual thank you list. I am literally two minutes away from leaving town yet again, and opted to use that time to post this instead. I believe I responded with individual PM's to my reviewers following my last update…if I didn't, forgiveness please! I promise I will get everyone this time around once I return from my trip)

I am sleep deprived and starving, all in the name of this chapter. So, if you come across errors, please be merciful on me. I read it over twice, but in my current state, who knows what I could have missed?

Why the long wait? Ahh, I am at that fork in the road of life and need to make a huge decision and fill out too long ass applications. Peace Corps or Grad School? I'm leaning towards the Peace Corps since that's always been my dream. If there's anyone out there who is a returned Peace Corps Volunteer or has heard anything from a returned volunteer, please share your information with me…pretty please??

Oh and my trusty old computer finally croaked...with my blue print for this ENTIRE story on it. So needless to say, that sucked.

I shall return shortly.


	8. Chapter 8

ATTENTION: VALERIA FROM .com/profile/xRedLadyx

IS ATTEMPTING TO PLAGERIZE MY WORK.

Dear Readers,

I must begin by apologizing for the delay in chapters. A little over a year ago, I was in a very traumatizing car accident, and experienced a deep depression. My life was put on hold, and a lot of my dreams went down the drain because of it. I would love to continue writing; however I must pick up the pieces of my life first. I believe that anyone who's ever experienced grief of any measure will understand. Now to the matter at hand. I believe it is disrespectful, classless, and downright wrong, to take someone's work and attempt to pass it off as your own. There is no mention of the original author (myself). Anyone who has written a scholastic paper knows that you must insert CITATIONS, otherwise that classifies as plagiarism.

I believe that VALERIA is a wonderful writer. However, I gave her NO permission to use my work, and as a writer, I am upset and hurt that this came to pass. All HELL BOUND chapters were written by me (Tallic86), and this will become clear and apparent when this "author" is unable to get past Chapter 7.

Thank you for your time readers, and I truly do love and respect you all.


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